


Don't Shoot Me Please

by Norasilotak



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 1950's, Animal Abuse, Apathy, Corpses, Freeform, Gen, Most OCs aren't my OCs, Multi, Other, absurdity, mafiafell, potential anachronisms, some horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:16:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Norasilotak/pseuds/Norasilotak
Summary: Casey Dunn is the Mayor's secretary and oftens stays really late at work. You work as the Mayor's office building's guardian and maintainer. You stayed late tonight and heard a strange phonecall... Now you have to find a way to talk the secretary into sparing your life.





	1. Grinning Reaper drives the witch away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RyftWyrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyftWyrd/gifts), [SixthSeason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthSeason/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Don't Shoot the Messenger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574081) by [SixthSeason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthSeason/pseuds/SixthSeason). 
  * Inspired by [Don't Shoot The Albatross](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147107) by [GypsumLilac (RyftWyrd)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyftWyrd/pseuds/GypsumLilac). 

> This is my first attempt at writing a fic in english and sharing it, it probably is filled with mistakes and nonesense.  
Largely inspired, and based on "Don't Shoot The Messenger" by SixthSeason and "Don't Shoot The Albatross" by RyftWyrd.  
This story takes place after the events of DSTM and right after the 14th chapter of DSTA.  
I don't own the following OCs: Casey Dunn and Shura. I will be careful and try to write nothing OOC but it might still slip sometimes. It wouldn't be out of disrespect but out of... narrative stake..? Maybe?  
Eh eh. Eh. No guarantee I will be posting this on a regular basis >:)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you are in trouble.

Casey was sitting at their desk in the mayor's office, their face lit by the sole light source of their desk lamp. The soft sound of a broom was quieting the otherwise silent atmosphere, and somehow helped their tired focus on compulsing files. The sudden ring of the phone startled them. They took a second to gather themself, sighing, putting their glasses down. They felt the headache upcoming and massaged their temples before answering the shrieking phone.

It was late at night and they were alone in the mayor's office, her window the only dimly lit rectangle of light in the whole building façade. As her trusted secretary, Casey had a spare key and since they had actively worked on being known for being a workaholic, no one would question their presence in here at indue times. Which gave them free opportunities to carefully look at some files regarding monster integration and any other political subject directly impacting the business of their chapter. Not that they were any official member of The Scintillating Skeletal Syndicate, though, even if they've litterally worked for them. Unless planning on marrying one of its bosses made them honorary member by default.. ?

Thus, the one calling was not exactly a work collegue. They smiled when they heard the gruff voice of their lover on the other side, and after a casual exchange of jokes, they went back to business.  
Leaning in the chair, they put their feet on the desk. This call was relaxing them and they realised they really needed this short break. No one around to blame them for this unprofessionnal behavior, and since this was about to be a long conversation, might as well get comfy. They were really confident no one would eavesdrop, for they had done that several times already and unsurprisingly, no one had even a trace of a doubt. Casey had grown into a rather careful and precautionous mole and they took real care of their cover. Which was technically more than a cover, since their post at Mayor's Secretary was their actual real job now and they just so happened to give their friends advices, hints and indications they gathered around the office.

The subject of the conversation quickly deviated to the quite recent recruit of the chapter, though they were more a "business partner" than a proper recruit. Their name was Shura and they screwed up their reputation and influence recently, thus giving Papyrus an excuse to keep them close by "punishment". It wasn't really a big deal, regarding Casey's position now, Shura's political influence wasn't such a heavy loss. Still, the blonde private eye was really good at what they were doing, so one of Casey's objective was to restore some of Shura's reputation, preparing the day they would return to their real job.

They sighed.

« tired, chihua'? ya should come back home. chillax. have a night o' sleep. git sum rest. » The concern in the gruff voice, and the short for their silly nickname they had grown to like made them smile again.  
« I'm fine, Sans, » they answered. « It's just... well. It's difficult. Shura is indeed creepingly good at their job, but they're terrible at making friends. None of their contacts like them. It's taken way longer than I thought it would just to get the new police commissioner to even consider having a word for them. Let alone pulling levers. »  
They heard Sans sigh in return.  
« aw, sweetheart, don't overwork yerself. da brat don't really deserve it, ya know. been' a pain in Pap's pelvic inlet with their last tantrum. »  
Casey flinched at that. A little. Sure, Shura was an explosive personality, but they had worked alongside them for a short while, so Casey knew for a fact that they were not the kind to 'throw a tantrum'.  
« They didn't 'throw a tantrum', Sans. They've... overreacted because they care a bit too much.  
\- and so they've been a pain in the ass. ya don't know them, Cas.  
\- Neither do you.  
\- uh, sure. i don't. but, please go home. ya really need to rest, and... i... uhm... i miss ya. »  
So that was what this really was about, uh. Sans, as professionnal as he was, wouldn't call them at their office so late for just business (and yes, he was professionnal, they wouldn't let anyone say he's lazy as fuck, given everything he did for the chapter, he couldn't be called 'lazy' just because he indulged himself to some sleep, drinks, and Casey's lustful love once in a while. … okay more than just 'once in a while', but it was no less deserved.) Their smiled brightened from the tenderness of his words and answered :  
« Aw, that was what it was all about. Calling at such time for business, I knew this was a poor excuse for sweet talk. Eh. Don't mind that though. I like sweet talk. »  
They leaned forward on the desk, lying on their elbows, the phone clung to their ear and they took a more sensual tone :  
« But I'd prefer some dirtier talk... my hot, hard bonehead. » They heard him retaining a laugh and continued with lewd innuendos and metaphores implying bones and red, slick and slimy magic. On the other side, they could hear he was appreciating the puns and identified some eagerness in his tone when he answered :  
« aren't ya too tired fer that ? git yer ass home quick an' we'll see if yer up to yer words. »  
They giggled, spinning on their spinny chair, about to answer 'then just get me' or something around the line, tiredness replaced with excitment of the perspective of being kidnapped from their office by a kinky big skeleton. But words were cut short when they saw the person standing on a stool, here in their office, not even remotely trying to hide, rubbing the ceiling with a broom. They froze in their chair. The other one kept on brooming the ceiling before Casey's silence bugged them and they turned towards them, a very neutral expression placated to their face. 

There was no way they wouldn't have heard this conversation. Just how much did they hear ? How long had they been there ? Casey vaguely remembered the quiet sound of the broom, they just couldn't replace it in a chronology of the night, unable to put when it started exactly.

They could hear Sans, called out by their sudden silence. « hey Cas ? ya okay ? »  
Casey swallowed their shock and answered : « Yeah, I'm okay. You're right. I should go home.  
\- i'm cumin' ta pick ya up.  
\- Yeah. Do that. »  
Sans obviously noted their tone had cooled to a cold, not even bothering to spot the pun out. They hung up the phone, their eyes not leaving the impromptu eavesdropper for a second.

***

You felt a cold chill running down your spine the moment Secretary Casey Dunn hung up the phone. You notice they didn't put their glasses back. Their eyes seemed to flash a purple light for a second, but this was absurd. Humans don't flash. But what was the opposite of absurd, what was a fact, at that moment, was that Casey Dunn was piercing through you with a burning cold stare. Calm, yet tensed. They were looking at you with a gaze that told Casey Dunn could, at any moment, jump on their feet and stab you with anything at hand. You did not want to know how they'd manage to stab you with a phone. The potential of penetration in flesh wasn't ideal and would most certainly hurt like hell, but you were certain they'd manage. They were able to kill you. That was what their eyes, uncannily bright, were telling you. These were the eyes of someone who already killed. And would likely do it again. That was a certainty.

Now that was quite a shock. Casey Dunn was a short sized japanese-afro-american who seemed to be nothing but work, nice and polite, and quite friendly with coworkers, even with those who seemed to antagonize them. Nothing ever told otherwise, not in their attitude, words, or behavior. Nothing would betray their implication in a chapter's activities. Let alone their ability to kill.

You swallowed and decided to take the first move, slowly going down the stool, the broom still at hand and upside down, some grayish floating trail stuck to its end. You didn't break eyecontact with Casey Dunn. Looking away could be dangerous, as they could take this as an opportunity to act, so you kept your eyes on them. You breathed, and your heart calmed itself almost immediately. You never had any problem keeping your calm. Pace and calm was the secret to a perfectly performed task, and you were all about perfectly performed tasks. They were the secret to a fluid and functionnal system, and though you were disregarded as the poor guardian and maintainer, you were proud to be the one keeping the place sparkling clean, livable and workable. And being disregarded wasn't that bad either. The other secret to your perfectly performed work had always been discretion and silence. No one liked a maintainer who'd be yelling at higher ranked workers over small dysfunctions and a bit of filth just to show they existed. It was simply natural to you to be silent, discreet, obedient, and therefore easy to live. And you liked living, either. It'd be more than unconvenient for you to die, especially by the hand of such a good Secretary that surely had other things to do than cleaning after you. You shivered thinking about the mess your corpse might make if it were to bleed, or worse. You had seen what kind of a mess a corpse made and the hassle it was to clean that. You wouldn't like to be the one cleaning after you. This was just a matter of respect, you could not let a mess behind you, be it your own dead body.

So you talked first, with a quiet and calm voice one would usually qualify 'shy', though they'd be mistaking. You weren't shy. You were quiet, that was way different. You were never afraid to talk. You simply managed to stay quiet and discreet, as no one seemed to notice you or remember your name and face. That was okay. As long as they listened to you when you talked. They always did, but somehow, they sort of forgot you were there as soon as you finished. It was okay, as long as they had listened. 

You broke the ice and stated the obvious, in order to clarify this embarrasingly tensed situation :

« So you work for the Syndicate. »  
Secretary Casey Dunn nodded, not bothering not to answer. They were confident you wouldn't tell the police, for obvious reason : if you didn't find a way to talk them into sparing your life, they'd kill you. They or whoever was on the phone with them who would certainly come up soon. So it didn't matter if they answered your questions. At least you'd know why you'd die. Which was very thoughtful of them, but then again, Secretary Casey Dunn was a very respectful person on numerous aspects. You may were grateful to them, however, you still needed to convince them, and they were very far from being convinced. So you elaborated :  
« And you probably wonder for how long I've been here. Longer than a few minutes, given I clearly heard you worked for the Syndicate, and since you talked about that before your wordplay with your mob lover. »  
Secretary Casey Dunn's cheeks darkened, as if they were blushing. And they managed to do that while keeping a stare as cold as ice. This was something you never had seen someone doing before, and it sure was something quite unsettling, as if they were balancing between two completely opposite demeanors. You didn't deflate, betraying no emotions that would only fuel their will to silence you :  
« I must be truthfull and confess I've been here from the beginning. I was brooming the ceiling when that phone call rang.  
\- The ceiling ? »  
Funny this was what was bugging them the most to make them break their threatening silence to show a bit of bewilderment. So you explain :

« Yes, the ceiling. You see, a vacuum is way more practical for the floor, but it is rather impractical for the ceiling. So I use a broom for that. »  
You showed the broom you were holding all along. This did not seem to cast some light on why you should use a broom on the ceiling.  
« Now I know there are special kind of brooms for ceilings, but this place doesn't seem to provide any, so I'm using a regular broom. It is a bit too short for that use so I must climb on a stool, therefore show more carefulness.  
\- Why should you broom the ceiling in the first place ?  
\- Oh. Well, this place is rather well isolated, so certain types of insects and spiders choose to go in there and establish their home away from wet and cold. You understand, this is a way comfier place than the streets. Now spiders are a proof the place is sane, and they are good at regulating the few tiny intruders, but their cobwebs catch the dust and become greyish disgusting looking trails on the ceilings. So one must broom it, destroying spiders' habitat consequently, which is a shame, really. But I've been ordered to do so, and thus in the first few days of work here since I do not ordinarily get rid of cobwebs, and the Mayor was very bothered by what she called 'dirt on the ceiling', and also she hates spiders. Though I think grey cobwebs are abandoned, spiders certainly take really good care of their homes, inhabited webs surely are invisible. »  
You paused a second, carefully watching Casey Dunn's reaction. Their blush had disappeared and there were only traces of the cold blood murderous gaze remaining. It was still there, though. Their face only had slowly shifted from dangerously cold (and flustered) to dangerously disconcerted. You kept on :

« The Mayor also asked me to get rid of the 'very big nightmarish monstruous spider' that she saw in her office someday. I only found an unusually big black hairy spider hiding in the vents. It did not seem to behave like ordinary spiders, and it would even squeal like a tiny mouse, so I moved it to the broom closet instead. Now it eats its share of my lunch everyday and hides in my cart to have its daily walk with me, and is a quiet presence all the while. It even put a flower in my bag someday, nice little thing. I called it squeaky. »

The disconcern on Casey Dunn's face only grew bigger until they finally cut you off :  
« That's... nice. But. Spiders aren't my biggest concern right now and so shouldn't yours be that either.  
\- I... don't understand, could you please elaborate ? »  
Now they went from disconcerted to flabberghasted. They obliged though, as the respectful and nice person they've always proven to be :  
« You eavesdropped on the wrong conversation. Now you know things you shouldn't know, and I am concerned you could snitch. Give me any reason I should try to speak for you to my boss and spare you an aweful death.  
\- Oh well that is fairly simple, as I was about to say, I think Squeaky would be very sad if I were to die. »  
They watched your expression carefully. You were sincere, though, so you were positive they wouldn't find anything incriminating on your face. Besides, you were holding a very neutral facial expression, keeping your calm and paced demeanor. Eventually, they shook their head.  
« Usually people bring up their families, their lover, their work and passion, anything that could make their life worthier than it already is. You... bring up a spider pet.  
\- I also have two dogs, a cat and three rats at home. They mean the world to me. »  
To that, Casey Dunn raised their brows. Then they rubbed their eyes with one hand and pinched between them. You elaborated: since they broke eyecontact with you, you assumed their will to kill you was faltering. Although they did say they would eventually speak to their boss, instead of ending you themself. Well, you had no time to think too hard about that right now.  
« I can tell you their each and individual story and how I got to adopt them... I would have taken Squeaky home if I was sure it could cohabitate with Abaddon. … That's my cat. She is rather territorial and doesn't welcome newcomers. She's a bully and rules over my two dogs... »  
Casey Dunn rose their other hand, and you stopped elaborating. They went for an other rub of their sore eyes before reaching for their glasses and put them back on. Then they resumed watching you.

« How am I supposed to know you are not a spy.  
\- Because I am a simple guardian and maintainer.  
\- And what do you maintain ?  
\- The building.  
\- Obviously, but why so late at night ?  
\- Why do you stay so late at night ?  
\- I prefer it... quiet. As in no-one-to-disturb-me-quiet.  
\- Well. I am all about quiet and no disturbance.  
\- I see that... »  
They seemed to wonder something before they talked again :  
« I suppose if you were here to attack me you would have just done that. I was... unaware of your presence... somehow... and you were armed. »  
You looked down at the broom you were holding onto. Despite your calm demeanor, your hands were clutching on it. You obliviously relaxed them while you answered :  
« This hardly can be considered a weapon, sir. » To that, they produced an aborted laugh, as if remembering something funny. « Now, this, is a proper weapon » they said, pulling a gun from under their desk. They didn't remove the security though, and wasn't aiming at you yet. Still, you didn't flinch. Your heartbeats were steady, your breath deep and calm. Your emotions were retreated to the back of your mind, like far away echoes trying to surface. You kept them away as the Secretary resumed questionning :  
« Tell me. How am I supposed to know you won't snitch.  
\- Well, because I value my life, as worthless as people think it is.  
\- … Fair point. Not a guarantee though. »  
You fell silent as you reconsidered your options. The Secretary apparently didn't want your death. But this didn't mean they would save you from their mob collegues or even kill you themself if needed. Though, they were asking very much considering your situation. Sure that was a sensible thing to ask for, but that wasn't a fair thing to ask nonetheless. You hold a sigh, and aswered in a slower pace, giving some more weigh to your words to sink in their tired mind :  
« Secretary Casey Dunn. I think you know there is no such a thing. »  
Simple fact, since they seemed to want you to remain factual. You couldn't give them a 'guarantee'. Your word wouldn't worth anything to them or their collegues. You had nothing to offer for your dear life.  
And that was exactly what they seemed to be thinking, because they were now watching you with a glimpse of pity in their eyes. Something you were aiming for seconds ago, something you now realised wasn't going to save you anyway. You had only succeeded at giving them remorse for driving you to your end. Well. At least somebody would feel sorry over your death. No one else would even notice it. Oh, maybe your employer, that is if she even remembered your name. Then they'd hire a new maintainer and forget you'd ever existed. The only ones to truely grieve would be your pets, and yet, they just wouldn't know what had happened to you : you'd just stop coming back home. They would certainly survive you and find an other shelter though, no need to worry too much for them. Oh, maybe Ranx and Rox would stay where they were, waiting a long time for your return.

You induldged the nice Secretary a smile. Tension you didn't even realised had built in your shoulders left you. Something in the air changed, some sort of pressure and an odd smell, but you paid no mind.  
« Well... I suggest you don't use this on me, » you told them calmly, waving at their gun. « It is disquieting and would leave stains of blood. Have you ever cleaned blood stains ?  
\- Yes... I have. »  
You became very aware of an unsettling, quiet presence behind you as the smell of smoke, you realised was now floating around you, grew in intensity. It would be rude to turn your back to the one you're speaking to, though, so you didn't look away and answered :  
« Then you know how it is. The floor is carpeted everywhere, it would be nearly impossible. You'd have to change the carpet or protect it beforehand. Impractical, really. I'd advise you to take me elsewhere, first, so I can conviniently move on my own feet and spare you the trouble of carrying my body, and then proceed to my death. Any method you see fit, as long as it is fast, clean and not disquieting. I don't like pain, mess and noise very much. »  
In the sole light of the desk lamp, the bluish grey smoke slowly invading the place curled uncannily. Casey Dunn didn't seem to even notice though, or they paid no mind, for they simply responded without casting even a single glance behind you :  
« … If you even consider having a chance to escape by delaying the inevitable, you are wrong.  
\- I don't.  
\- ... I believe you.  
\- If that is still a bother to you, though, there are some tarpaulins in the basement. It could serve to protect the floor and wrap me so you could proceed right here instead of moving beforehand. But I maintain this would be more convinient if I walk outside instead of you carrying me. I don't think anyone would notice a missing tarpaulin, but there is still a slight chance someone could be observant. Let alone the chances someone outside witnesses you carrying what looks like a body wrapped with plastic in the middle of the night.  
\- Don't... worry. I think- I think we can handle this. You know... we know how to do this. We've done it several times. It is part of the job.  
\- Oh, of course. Pardon me. »  
It wasn't only pity in their eyes, now. It was a mix of disconcern, bewilderment and pity. Only now did they look behind you to the one whose presence was bugging you. You heard a deep, slow, slightly raspy chuckle. You turned around and your heart skipped a beat as you raised your gaze up to the grinning face of this tall, large skeleton wearing a fedora hat and a lit cigar stuck in his sharp teeth. A glimpse of gold caught your eye in the corner of his lipless mouth, as his golden tooth reflected the desk lamp's light. Then his piercing, red glowing pinpoints of eyes achieved to freeze you into place. You swallowed slightly harder, and there went the fear this monster was inspiring you. You managed to relax again as you greeted him.

« How appropriate to be escorted to my last abode by someone like you. » He raised a browbone as you realised this was not an appropriate greeting, even though it was your genuine thought of the moment. You promptly rectify : « Sorry. Good evening, sir. Pleased to meet you. »  
He bent slightly his head to the side, still looking at you, before answering :  
« hi... same. »  
It was really weird to stare at such a face. It was almost expressionless and the depht of his black holes of eyes was fascinating. Never in your life had you ever saw something that could potentially bring genuine fear into you. Although, with more observation, his traits and looks seemed less uncanny. As he grunted, you remembered that staring too long was rude, though, and you most certainly didn't want to be rude to this... rich, elegantly dressed, impressively massive, monster person. So you blinked and lowered your gaze. He moved his attention to the Secretary.  
« we take care of this now or do we bring'm up to the boss ? »  
Casey Dunn seemed to give this a thought, as they didn't aswer right away. Then you heard them say :  
« We bring them to the hideout, lock them up somewhere, and wait for tomorrow. This really is not a right time to disturb the boss with unwanted witnesses.  
\- not that they witnessed anything, really. they just heard yer call.  
\- And they heard way too much.  
\- yup'. yer in trouble.  
\- Thanks for the reminder...  
\- hey. they really heard everything ? even the sexy things ? »  
If blushing made a sound, you'd probably hear it as Casey Dunn gave a meaningfull silence to that. Oh, so their lover on the phone was this same person in front of you. He chuckled and removed his attention to you, and you met his gaze.  
« welp. at least ya had a nice show, ya witch. » And he winked at you.

You didn't have time to think of why he would call you a 'witch' and how a skull could actually wink, when his thick boney hand grabbed you by the shoulder. A second later, you were at the side of a shiny black car. You had no time to process in what street you were before he shoved you in the backseat and slammed the door behind you. Your turned your head towards him, but you couldn't see him through the window : he wasn't there anymore.  
You doubted you could open the door and you didn't even try. You rearranged your position to sit compfortably on the leather seat. You noted he did not take the broom away. Now that was a bit inconvenient. And potentially dangerous, if he was a bad driver, this could hit someone by accident. You chose to put it down on the car floor, thinking that the next maintainer could have a use of the broom and that it should be put back in its closet. You leaned your back on the black leather, though, now you could look through the windows and process that you were about a few buildings away from the Mayor's office, in the same street. You felt something moving in your uniform's front pocket and slid a careful hand inside. You felt the familiar, painless tug of Squeaky's cheliceras on the tip of your finger. You smiled fondly as this somewhat affective demeanor brought warmth in your chest. You carefully pat its hairy soft back with two fingers and it squeled quietly. You gently hushed it. You wouldn't want your captors to take it away from you, or kill it right away. You'd manage to free it at some point.  
Moments later, about the amount of time required to, you assumed, tidy the office and put your cart to its right place for someone who didn't know where the broom closet was, the criminal lovers appeared next to the car and entered. You thought they might as well have asked you to put the stuff back where it belonged before putting you here, that would have saved some time. The skeleton sat on the driver's seat while Casey Dunn sat next to you, holding a piece of cloth. They caught you staring questioningly at it and they clarified :  
« I must blind you.  
\- Oh. Well, wouldn't it have been more efficient to blind me in the building, after making me tidy everything and before putting me in this car, from where I could have escaped before you were back.  
\- That's what I told him, but he was positive you wouldn't even try to open the doors, and so was I. It gave us some time to talk privately anyway.  
\- Oh. Did you put the cart back in the broom closet ?  
\- We... couldn't find the broom closet, so Sans threw it in the nearest dump. … I told him we could have as well left it where it was, but... Yeah. He should have definitely let you tidy up before leaving » Casey Dunn said, casting a glance at the monster through the mirror. The skeleton responded with a raised finger.  
« Oh, I see. » you responded stupidly, though your calm never faltered witnessing their bickering.  
« welp, time to just stop doing that » the skeleton snickered, as Casey Dunn sighed and started moving the cloth to your eyes. You rose a polite hand, putting them to a stop, and buckled your belt. Then you lowered your hand and waited. After a second of bugged consideration, they shook their head and blinded you.

You then heard the motor roaring to life and felt the engine riding to your demise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Casey Dunn can be really threatening, from other people's point of view. In DSTM we didn't get a vision of them other than their own and Sans's, in one case they were belittled and in the other they were cute. But I maintain that they can get really freaky, only they don't realise it. And Sans aren't afraid of them so that's why they didn't seem really dangerous, but come on. They've proven to be very capable (even if it requires to break some limbs). Well, they don't date Sans for nothing after all !  
They are a tad bit disturbed they didn't notice you were brooming right next to them though. They still don't understand how this happened.
> 
> ... and Papyrus won't like this for sure...


	2. Dreamless Night before Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Squeaky is pettable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot mistakes, feel free to comment, and I'll correct !  
Feel free to comment either way, feedback is always welcomed.

Sans was driving in silence, as Casey was probably way too tired to engage in a conversation. Checking on them in the rear mirror, he saw them dozing off. He decided to let them nap, if they were feeling safe enough to do so. He was here anyway, he would make sure nothing happened.

… not that there was any real threat. Their hostage was the opposit of difficult : obedient, polite, resigned. He periodically checked on them as well, and they were just the way they were from the beginning : calm, quiet. Hands put, still, on their knees. Seemingly compfortable, though there was still a certain stiffness in their back. Anxiety perhaps. Or maybe just their natural way to sit, back straight, formal. Overall, they just seemed to be on a happy journey, not being kidnapped by mobsters. He noticed their head was turned towards their window, as if they weren't blinded and casually looking the landscape... 

Now that was unsettling. Sans didn't like to feel unsettled. Especially because of some weakling he could crush between two fingers. Nah, this was just coincidence. They weren't watching anything, they just held their gaze to the side because that's just how they felt like. He shook his head and reported his attention to the road, fighting his own tiredness with a silent yawn. They weren't far now.

A low, light chuckle gently broke the roaring silence, and all tiredness fled immediatly his mind as he reported his attention back to his captive. Their otherwise neutral expression had turned to a soft smile as they were still staring to nothing.

Too calm, too quiet, too polite demeanor. Neutral unreadable poker face. And now that.  
He felt a cold chill going down his spine. Now he definitely was unsettled. And he hated it, efficiently fighting this unwanted discompfort with anger. He clutched his fist to the wheel and turned his gaze back to the road. They were about to arrive. His own grin widened slightly. 

All considered, he didn't know what to think about you. However, he knew exactly how he felt :  
h e d i d n ' t l i k e y o u . And, oh, how he would LOVE to wipe that odd smile off of your face.

***

The trip, in all, wasn't that bad. Aside of the fact you were blinded, you were compfortably sat in a compfortable leather seat in a compfortable silence. The criminal lovers didn't even chat together, which was fine to you. All three were lost in their private, secured thoughts, and yours went to your pets at home. Maybe you could ask somebody to take care of them as a favor to their boss, if he was willing to oblige. At least opening your door to let them go free, or even find them a new shelter. You smiled when a funny thought came up : Ranx and Rox were two good doggies, and mobs surely had a use of good doggies. A soft, fond chuckle escaped your lips as you imagined the dogs, Abaddon and the rats being fed by mobs and took on missions. That would be endearingly ridiculous.

In your pocket, Squeaky remained still. This little thing really was perceptive : it seemed to know that they mustn't be discovered. That, or they just dozed off in your body warmth.

After some time, the car slowed down and came to a stop. You heard the distinct sound of the break followed by the driver's door opening, and felt the engine slightly shimmy as the heavy driver went out. The door next to Casey Dunn opened then, and you heard the skeleton -Sans was his name, as you had gathered- softly waking them up with some tender, low-pitch words. How could one wake up to that instead of falling deeper asleep ? You assumed these words were accompanied with a bit of gentle shoulder-shaking, or maybe even a caress on the cheek. Anyway, the short human woke up with a tired grunt, and this was all too adorable to not smile to that. Suddenly, your door opened and you were abruptly shoved in the cold with a not-so-adorable raspy grunt, as your belt simply unbuckled on its own. Your right arm got caught in it for a second, and was now stinging. Your smile disappeared and you shivered, crossing your arms on your chest -and conviniently above your front pocket, as you worried Squeky might start moving again-. Then a hard big hand pushed you on and you started walking in pitch black, but Casey Dunn's voice stopped both you and your rough guide :

« Uh, what do we do with this ?  
\- what's that. » Sans asked back.  
« Uh, the broom, dummy. What do we do with it ?  
\- i dunno, why do ya have a broom with ya.  
\- Don't ask ME, bonehead. YOU took it with them.  
\- yeah whatever. throw it away er take it inside fer all i care.  
\- Okay, sheesh, no need to yell at me.  
\- i'm not yellin' at ya, i jus' dun'give a shit o' da fuckin' broom.  
\- No need to piss me off, either.  
\- shove it in yer ass. »  
All the while you had resumed walking, on the rough hand's command. There was something a tad bit unnerving in walking in pitch black, like any step could send you sink in a bottomless void. You breathed deep the cold night air and tension left you, as your disquieting emotions retreated again. Your kidnappers went on bickering :

« I love you, Sans, but I'm way too tired for your shit right now. Just shut up.  
\- hey, chill Cas'. ya brought the broom subject up, 'was jus' givin' hints of a proper use to it since ya asked so fuckin' nicely. yer fuckin' welcome by the way.  
\- Fuck YOU, Sans. Which is just a hint of a proper use for yourself. YOU'RE welcome, fucker. »  
Wait, was that an argument, or flirt ? Both maybe ? In any case, their harsh language was starting to get on your nerves and you tried your best to go over it.  
« thanks. noted. now keep yer middle finger fer yer cunt, sucker. it'll need prep' fer what's coming fer it. »

Definitively hate-flirting, then. Though you suspected both were way too tired to stick to their threats. Their exchange was somewhat cute in its harshness, despite it being rather disquieting. But you decided to keep any comments to yourself, as you wouldn't want to interfere with their fun. You already were the center of their, you assumed, really bad night as they would surely be better off sleeping in an expensive, fancy king-sized bed, all cuddled together. Not leading an inconspicuous, suspicious, unwelcomed eavesdropper to their hideout.

As they kept on bickering with increasingly harsh language, though, you sighed and your mind betrayed you by letting you thought slip out :

« language, please... »

You knew this was a terrible mistake the moment it escaped your mouth. As a confirmation, the rough hand was now firmly grabbing your shoulder, stopping you abruptly. You then felt the warm breath of the monster on your neck and your hairs couldn't help but rise ever so slightly. You heard his deep, growling voice close, so close you could almost see his sharp teeth clawing on your goose skin.

« whad'dya say.. ? 'didn' hear ya there, pal. »

You took a breath, then swallowed. Focused on keeping your heartbeats steady. Then breathed again. You couldn't guess wheter if this wasn't meant to be answered to or if this was calling for an answer. You wouldn't risk him to loose patience though, so you decided for the latter. Your voice didn't falter, keeping an equal tone when you answered :

« Nothing of importance, sir. I am very sorry my foolish wording interfered with your fun.  
\- ''f u n'' ? ya think i'm havin' ''fun'', here ? ya see me confused, pal. CouLd YOu ElaborAte ? »  
The way he carefully spelled that last sentence, mocking your own way to speak but with no humor transpiring in his deep cold voice, you suddenly realised a thing : he really didn't like you. That was not a compforting thing to know. You kept your mouth shut this time, silently cursing your damned hatred for harsh language. He went on, adding pressure on your shoulder, making sure you would know he could crush you with ease. You had no doubt he could.

« oh, cuz yeah, sure, i'm havin ''fun'' right now. escortin' a bitch that doesn't know how to mind their own fuckin' business to the hideout like they're a fuckin' princess ! oh, i wouldn't be better off havin' a good night of sleep in my fuckin' expensive-fancy-king-sized-bed, lover in my arms right now, oh no. cuz yer a real blast, asshole. wouldn't miss spendin' a night in da cold with ya fer the world ! »

You knew it, of course. That was, though worded differently, your exact same impression of the situation. As he spoke, you had slightly turned your head towards him for better hearing -it would be rude to try to put more distance when he obviously intended to be incompfortably close-, letting him hammer his swearwords in your mind -you were sure he did hear your comment and was willingly swearing in your ear-. Thus, the warmth of his breath had brought to your nose the mixed smell of smoke and mustard. It stung in the depht of your nasal cavity, just above your throat, and you shivered holding back your cough and your fear that threatened to blurt out like a spill of rancid blood. Coughing and blurting in fear would be quite rude, and wouldn't likely help you.

This reaction seemed to ease him a bit, though, as you felt the pressure leaving your shoulder.

« now if ya don't mind, witch, just keep. your cockhole. shut. »

With that, conclusion came as a loud thud right in front of you and warmth suddenly engulfed you as you were pushed inside a building. You stumbled on your feet but managed to regain balance, before Sans pushed you on again. He led you with rough pushes left and right, through what you assumed were corridors. 

All three of you were dead silent now, only the sound of your steps and some curious smells filled the air. Sometimes some activity noises would erupt from afar, but they would be brieve and senseless. In all, ambiance was silent. Silence was usually fine to you, but this wasn't a quiet silence. To this heavyness you'd preferred their former banter, be it harsh and disquieting. You breathed yourself into relaxing, trying to ignore the pain that lingered in your shoulder, but you did not allow your arms to go limp on your sides yet. Suddenly, your hit an empty-sounding wall, and pain erupted in your fronthead and knee. Sans snickered.

« Sans... »

Casey Dunn's voice. Disapproving tone. The monster audibly held a response, but sighed instead, certainly tired of arguing for tonight. He held you back before hitting the wall before you, then pushed you on. You braced for the impact, but felt yourself falling instead. You failed at catching yourself this time and found yourself on your four limbs, wrists hurting.

« Sans ! You could've removed the blind before- ah, shit. »

You heard your human kidnapper approaching you, then felt them tug the knot of the piece of cloth behind your head. Light came back in your eyes as the blind was removed and you blinked. Not a bright light, though. A dim one, filtering through the opened door you fell from. They held you by your shoulders and helped you back on a sitting position.

Your shoulder hurt but you paid no mind, they were trying to be kinder than Sans. You nodded, which was a sober, quiet thank, and meant you were fine. You even gave them a smile for good measures. They looked at you up and down, with a glimpse of concern in their eyes. But they seemed to rethink their behavior as they shook their head and pat your arms, your legs, your back, looking for any suspicious objects potentially tucked in hidden pockets. You thought this should have been one of the first things to do, even before putting you in their car, and preferably when you where standing on your feet for more practicality but you chose to not comment. When their hand approached your front pocket, you flinched. They stopped, looking at you questioningly, and you held your shoulder. If that could serve as an excuse, you hoped they wouldn't insist. And for some reason, it worked. Their eyes did that same strange thing they did back at the office and seemed to glow purple for a second, looking at your bruised shoulder, and gave up on checking you, standing up instead. They turned to leave, taking back the broom they had put aside to help you. You had no idea why they would still keep it around.

« You have a few hours of sleep before we're back and bring you to the boss. » They said, with a neutral tone. You nodded again and answered : « Understood. Good night, mux Dunn. » You saw they reacted to your words, but you didn't see their face. You looked over their shoulder to the skeleton's massive silhouette, still standing in the door's frame, his red eyelights the only things truely dicernible since you were trapped in his cast shadow. « Good night, sir. My apologies for the bother » you added, looking straight, yet respectfully, at the red glowing pinpoints. He grunted back, and as soon as his human lover left your room, he slamed the door behind them. You heard the clicketing sound of the lock, and the muffled one of Casey Dunn's voice :

« You didn't have to be so dicky, Sans. They weren't disrespectful.  
\- ya really plan on stickin' that in yer ass er yer puttin' it somewhere else ? »  
Sans sounded exasperated. You then heard the human sighing, probably upset he changed subject so abruptly. They let it down, though, as you heard them leaving without further comment. Sans's steps followed, and you barely heard his following words : « wait, i know where ta put it- » and then you lost track of them.

Now you were alone. You took your time to breathe and relax, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness. You were in a rather small room, square, with no window. The metallic door would be the only source of light when the corridor was lit, which wasn't as soon as your two kidnappers left. You could see, though very blurry, so there must have been some light filtering somehow. You saw a bare matress with a few springs piercing its fabric, and a metallic, dirty looking bucket in the corner. 

Felt like home.

You carefully pat your frontpocket, and immediately, Squeaky started moving again. Good. The last remnants of tension left you as the big black adorable spider crawled out of its hideout, climbing on your hand. You looked at it with a fond smile while petting it with the tip of your fingers. It squealed and vibrated slightly, its low buzz reminding you vaguely of a soft purr. Such a unique, precious creature.

You stood slowly from the cold concrete of the floor to go sit on the matress. Barely more compfortable, but it'll have to do. You lied down, careful to avoid the stinging springs, putting Squeaky on your chest. The soft buzz kept on, as you kept on petting it softly. You focused on these sensations only, until everything else flowed away, and you forgot how to feel anything else than a calm compfort. You locked it all deeper, the pain in your shoulder, the fear of Sans, any sort of resurging anxiety : all that was, and ever had been, were your steady and quiet breath, maintaining steady and quiet heartbeats, and quiet purring Squeaky. Once you were completely serene, your mind flowed away as well, and sleep overtook you. You sunk in a dark, soothing, silent bliss. 

***

A short, dreamless night passed. You never needed a lot of sleep, as long as you remembered. You were always able to fall asleep whenever you needed, wherever you were and a few hours would always do. What woke you up was the sensation of Squeaky moving under your hand, and you opened your eyes. Light was filtering under the door and you could hear distant activity. You lifted your hand, and the spider started crawling all over, exploring the place. You slowly rose to a sitting position. Your body was sore from the few hours on the bad matress, and you engaged in some specific stretches, careful when moving your bruised shoulder. Then you stood on your feet, tested your balance, then resumed stretching, adding some breathing exercises to this morning routine.

Let aside the pain in your shoulder, you felt good. Stretching and breathing helped getting rid on the soreness stiffing your limbs and back, and you soon felt like yourself again, completely rested. You also were a bit peckish, you could use a snack at the moment. That would have to wait, though. You weren't even sure to survive this day, so why would you eat ?

Ah. Funny that thought wasn't as upsetting as it should be. It was only morning, though, you had just woken up. Emotions would come back eventually, but not before they'd been struck to come back. And even when they'd be there, you'd probably breathe them down or turn them away. Things always had been more simple when they were down.

You kept on stretching for the sole pleasure of working your body, while your eyes lent on the dirty bucket. There was enough light for you too see how gruesome it looked: the metal was partly rusted, it seemed to have brownish dirt stuck inside and it was almost entirely covered with a layer of some whitish-grey dust. You also noticed Squeaky studiously avoided it.

You felt uneasiness squeezing your chest the more you were looking at the object. You were about to wonder why, and what unfamiliar emotion it was striking exactly, when you heard heavy footsteps coming up. Squeaky reacted too by quickly climbing on your leg, up to your chest and reaching the safety of your front pocket. The lock clickered and the door opened. You took your time to finish your blow accompanying your stretch, in order to not rush your body into its normal composure, before turning to face Sans, who was looking at your with bewildered eyesockets. Funny you could point out this expression was bewilderment, given how expressiveless his skull looked, but you figured he wasn't expecting to see you up and rested. As for him, he looked the very opposite : his eyesockets were underlined with a grey shadow, his eyelights were dim, he was frowning and his elegant clothes were wrinkled. Seemed like he had a rough night. You broke the silence :

« Good morning, sir. Hope you had a bit of rest. » He frowned deeper, seemingly annoyed by your words... or just by you. You meant it, though. Even if he looked obviously unrested, you didn't see why you couldn't wish he were. He didn't bother to respond and just spun on his heels with a grunt. No need to clarify, you understood you had to follow him.

You crossed a few corridors and the noises of activity intensified. You did not approach it too much though, stopping in front of a door Sans opened. He shoved you inside.

It was an office. Practical, sober, with very few decoration, except for the name « Scintillating Skeletal Syndicate » framed on the wall. Everything was in tones of metal grey and black plastic or leather, with one flashy touch of color : the red spinny chair by the desk... on which throned the broom. You stared at it, disconcerted ever so slightly, then you remembered the fact that you didn't need to think too hard about why the broom was on a bright red comfy chair. On the opposite side of the desk was a regular chair that was probably destined to you or any indue visitor for it looked incredibly uncompfortable.

You couldn't bask in the fashion choices for long though as Sans drove you to sit on it, his hand biting your shoulder once more. You controlled your facial expression as you gathered he would be pleased with a squeal of pain. You didn't want to please him. As long as you were polite, respectful, you though he would at least behave honorably. It was enough. You didn't need to be liked by the one who would probably have to kill you. You only needed him to remain professional enough to make this quick and as painless as possible. If it were to happen, that is. If you were still here, after all, it was because you still had a chance to survive this. Then... well, you didn't need to plan that far.

Sans attached your hands behind the back of the chair, then left the room, leaving you alone. Not for long though. Soon enough, you heard the booming voice of somebody openly, harshly scolding your kidnapper. Then, the door opened loudly on a tall- very, very tall skeleton. 

« AND SO YOU BRING HERE A WITNESS ! AGAIN ! WE SHOULD CONSIDER OPENING A ''WITNESS RANCH'' TO RAISE THEM LIKE WARDOGS TO SERVE OUR GREAT AND TERRIBLE SCHEMES.  
\- eh. figured ya'd like ta meet'm.  
\- OH, OF COURSE, SANS, I AM TRUTHFULLY DELIGHTED TO BEGIN A DAY OF HARD WORK WITH CLEANING YOUR SHIT- AND WHAT'S THIS ?? »  
The tall skeleton didn't even cast a glance to you, but apparently went flabberghasted at the vision of the royal, defiant broom sat on his chair. You too were awaiting an explanation.

« it's theirs.  
\- THE WITNESS'S ? WHAT IS IT ? A SPYING DEVICE ?  
\- uuuh... no.. ?  
\- A WEAPON, THEN. DID THEY ATTACK CASEY WITH IT ?  
\- uh... no, it's more like a ustensil used to wipe off the dirt on the floor-  
\- I KNOW WHAT A BROOM IS, SANS. JUST WHAT THE HELL IS IT DOING IN MY OFFICE ? AND WHY, ABOVE ALL, ON MY SPECIAL COOL BOSS SPINNY CHAIR, IF IT IS JUST SOME REGULAR BROOM ?  
\- uh, dunno, couldn't find where else ta put it.  
\- ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME ? DON'T YOU KNOW WHERE THE REGULAR-BROOM CLOSET IS ?  
\- didn't know there was a broom closet.  
\- YOU- AH, WHY DOES THIS EVEN SURPRISE ME. »  
The boss took the broom, oggling with a disgusted frown the grey trail stuck to its dirty end, then put it on the floor by his desk. He studiously looked at his chair, wiping off eventual dirt from it with a tissue, then sat his pelvis and finally turned his attention to you, joining his long, thin, skeletal hands in front of his clawed lipless mouth, elbows on the desk.

You met his red glowing gaze as he glared at you for an uncompfortably long time. You remained calm and neutral, focused on ignoring the bells that his loud voice sent ringing in your ears. He then gave you two simple orders :

« WHAT DO YOU KNOW, HUMAN. -MIND YOUR WORDS. »  
So you minded, for a few seconds, before answering what you thought was the most accurate response :  
« Way too much.  
\- VERY ACCURATE. NOW WHAT DO WE DO WITH YOU ? »  
You didn't think this was calling for a response, so you kept your mouth shut. He resumed glaring you up and down, his frown deepening. 

« SANS. YOUR SUGGESTION.  
\- kill'm.  
\- ELABORATE.  
\- kill'm ded. »  
The boss rolled his eyelights.  
« WHY.  
\- wh- what ''why'' ? they know too much, they're a witness, we dun' usually think too hard about killin' witnesses.  
\- HOPEFULLY FOR YOUR S- YOUR LIBIDO, I DO. AND THEN WHY WOULD YOU BRING THEM TO ME IF THEY WERE JUST SOME ''USUAL'' WITNESS, SANS ? WHAT'S IT WITH THEM ? »  
Sans shrugged.  
« Chihuahua's idea.  
\- WHERE IS CASEY ?  
\- sleepin' in my office.  
\- ARE THEY ALRIGHT ? »  
Sans seemed slightly surprised by what must be a spontanous demonstration of concern, though it wasn't said with a tone of concern.  
« uh, yeah. sleepin', safe and sound.  
\- ON YOUR MOCKERY OF A SOFA ? THEY WON'T BE ''ALRIGHT'' FOR LONG, THEN. BETTER GET THEM UP BEFORE THEY HURT THEMSELF ON THIS MALFORMED, SPRINGY, UNCOMPFORTABLE FUCKERY. BRING THEM HERE THIS INSTANT.  
\- well they haven't been all night on the sofa. i was their sofa-springin'-fuckery before i had to get up fer ya.  
\- … I DIDN'T ASKED TO KNOW THAT, SANS. NEITHER DID THE WITNESS.  
\- that's what witnesses do, boss. an'i didn't mean it like that, fer once.  
\- GET ME CASEY. NOW. »

This was a command that wouldn't suffer any more protest or delay. Sans obeyed and left the room.

You found yourself alone with the tall, inquisitive skeleton. He leaned on his backseat, arms crossed, still looking at you. Then he said, with a lower, somewhat colder tone :  
« YOU ARE A MYSTERY. »  
You didn't have time to ask him what he meant, when Sans was back, mux Dunn at his side. They weren't looking any better than him, and their glasses were skewed. The booming voice of their boss startled them, even though they were probably used to it.

« TELL ME CASEY, HOW THE HELL THIS SHIT HAPPENED.  
\- Mh- this... person... was in my office when Sans called me. I didn't notice them, I thought I was alone.  
\- YOU DIDN'T CHECK BEFORE SAYING ANYTHING ?  
\- No... I was certain I was alone.  
\- SO THEY WERE SKILLFULLY HIDING LIKE A FILTHY SPY.  
\- … No.  
\- WHAT. SO THEY WERE NOT HIDING ? »  
You almost felt sorry for them as they clearly were embarassed.  
« … No... not even remotely. They... were brooming the ceiling, standing on a stool. »

To that, their boss looked at them, utterly flabberghasted. Sans audibly snorted.  
« ARE YOU THAT STUPID ??!  
\- No... No I'm not. It's just...  
\- WELL, YOU JUST TOLD ME THIS PERSON WAS, I QUOTE, ''STANDING ON A STOOL BROOMING THE CEILING'' WITH, I BELIEVE, THIS ACCUSATORY BROOM, » He took the broom and started pointing it threateningly at the poor secretary « AND YOU DIDN'T NOTICE THEM ??? AND YOU ANSWERED A CALL FROM THE SYNDICATE WITHOUT ANY CODING, LIKE EVERYTHING WAS SUGAR AND RAINBOWS ??? »  
The more the boss's scolding went on, the more his gestures were wide, giving to the broom a threatening aspect, and the shorter Casey Dunn seemed. Their face got darker of embarrassment. You felt truely sorry for them, now. Without further thought, you tried bringin attention to you. Vainly. The boss went on his scolding and didn't even hear you over his great frustration, bewilderment and anger. Finally, you gave up. You just couldn't yell, that was not something you would do to save your own life, let alone risk it. You just had to wait until the thunder passed.

Eventually, the boss stopped. Casey Dunn was definitely belittled, their head down, their shoulders tensed. Sans, standing close to them, pat their head. The boss huffed and resumed :  
« WELL, THIS INCREDIBLE DEMONSTRATION OF INCOMPETENCE MUST BE PUNISHED. IN REGARD TO YOUR JOB THAT DEMANDS YOU LOOK INTACT, IT WON'T BE PHYSICAL. »  
To that, Sans reacted.  
« boss, ya can't treat Cas' like any of our guys.  
\- HOLD YOUR HORSES, SANS. I DIDN'T EVEN SAY WHAT THEY'D HAVE TO DO.  
\- ya can't. treat'm. the way ya like.  
\- SANS, STOP CUTTING ME OFF OR I WILL CONSIDER GIVING YOU A CHORE TOO.  
\- A chore.. ? »  
That was Casey Dunn expressing some surprise, and concern.

« YES. A CHORE. REMEMBER WHAT I TOLD SANS THE NIGHT HE TOOK YOU IN ? »  
They thought about it a second. Then they remembered, blood leaving their face :  
« ''Take care of your own shit''.  
\- EXACTLY. ASSUME YOUR RESPONSIBILITY : KILL THEM YOURSELF. »

Now was probably the right time to bring attention to you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was difficult. It wouldn't let me write it. I first intended on putting Papyrus' POV, but its greatness was too much to bare. It will be for later. Consequently, I cut off some different versions of the same scene, and I have some stupid exchanges between Sans and Papyrus saved in the Nope Sheet. Maybe as a bonus chapter in the end I'll post the goofs and stuff I chose not to post because it felt odd with the rest. That is, if I keep up until then.


	3. Deal on the witch's soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Squeaky is invisible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see any mistake, feel free to spot it out in the comments.

« TAKE YOUR RESPONSABILITY : KILL THEM YOURSELF. »

Papyrus watched Casey intently as they hesitated. Then they shrugged off whatever they had in mind and took their gun.

Papyrus was proud of his ability to read people. Very few had ever been able to lie to his face, and those who had tried and failed had paid the price. This human sitting on the chair, however, was a mystery.

They were unreadable. Their face blank, their eyes so black they seemed empty. It was even nearly impossible to point out their ethnic origin, for their traits were a sort of bland mix of everything. Papyrus was unused of such individual, and he was curious. Since he couldn't read them and make his own opinion, he had to rely on Sans's and Casey's intuition. Now Sans had made his mind, but couldn't provide a sensible reason to just get rid of them. In a sense he was right, though. If it was not for his curiosity and his sparked interest, Papyrus wouldn't have thought too hard about killing this unfortunate witness. It is not like they inspired any sort of threat, so why was Sans so willing to end them ? That was unusual too. Sans wasn't the kind to dwelve into murder, he killed easily, but with no pleasure. 

Now Casey had probably made their opinion too, and Papyrus was curious. This was unusual to him, for he was The Great and Terrible Papyrus, and ordinarily needed no such help, but he had to follow Casey's intuition on that case. If they thought killing them was what was best to do, they'd oblige. It wouldn't be their first murder anyway, and it was getting only easier the more you killed. But if Casey had something else in mind, Papyrus would be glad to hear about it.

But Casey didn't seem to find anything else to do than following orders, as they walked to the witness's back and pointed the gun at their head.

***

Casey didn't react immediately. Instead, they looked at you. For a moment, you saw remorse in their eyes, and that was no good news. Then they shook their head and took their gun from its holster.

Now probably was the good time to say something. Think, quick.

They approached you and stood behind you so they, you assumed, wouldn't see your face.

Now probably was the moment to have an idea and- 

You felt the cold metal of the gun against your head. You swallowed. Your mind was frozen. You breathed into relaxing...

It didn't work. Your chest was ablaze. You couldn't breathe.  
You felt a burning wave rise inside of you. The sole thing that resonated in your head was a word : 

No.

No.

No.  
No.  
No.  
No. No. No. No. No. N-

The gun left your head as Casey suddenly spoke :  
« There is an other way for me to take responsability. »  
You held your breath.  
« OH ? WHAT IS IT ?  
\- They could serve the Syndicate. I mean, they have skills.  
\- INTERESTING. »  
As the boss's gaze returned to you, you forced your breath back and gulped. The fire in your chest was aching and you summoned all your will to not snap.  
« TELL ME, HUMAN. WHAT SKILLS OF YOURS WOULD BENEFIT THE SYNDICATE ? »  
You forced steady breaths. Just speak. You heard your voice shivering ever so slightly when you answered :  
« I... if... the syndicate would use a maintainer, I... can maintain... things.  
\- DO YOU THINK THE SYNDICATE IS CALLED ''SCINTILLATING'' BECAUSE IT ALLOWS FILTH AND DIRT TO LINGER INTO ITS BASE ? SO IT REQUIRES A ''MAINTAINER'' TO DO THE JOB ANY WORKER CAN DO ? »  
You swallowed again. In your front pocket, you felt small pats. No, now was not the time for Squeaky to appear- you couldn't pet it to calm it down, you could only hope it would calm itself and remain still. Your chest ached but the fire cooled a bit. Your breaths were steadier and your heartbeats resumed a more bearable rythm. You sounded more confident as you said :  
« There is always filth somewhere. »

The boss took this as an insult. He erupted in rage, standing up behind his desk, leaning forward to you above the desk, menacingly closing the space between you and him simply by this change of composure :

« MIND YOUR WORDS, YOU WORTHLESS HUMAN ! YOU ARE THE FILTH I ALLOWED IN BECAUSE THERE WAS A SLIGHT CHANCE YOU COULD SAVE YOU PITIFUL, USELESS LIFE, AND YOU WASTED IT WITH FOOLISH ARROGANCE ! »  
You felt each and every word hammer in your bones. This unclenched your words and your mind. The fire, close to the point of explosion, shut off all of a sudden and you felt filled with cold control. You answered calmly :  
« Yes, and I sincerely apologize for the trouble. Now I don't see what else I can say or do : I clean, fix, maintain things, listen to people speaking when nobody hear them, I go unnoticed, unknown, unmourned, that's all I do. »  
You didn't know how your quiet voice managed to silence the booming one of the skeletal boss, his rage seemingly vanished as quick as it came. He sat back slowly. You resumed speaking :  
« That's all I am. The silent, quiet, discreet maintainer no one knows. When you kill me, no one will be looking for me. There is nothing I can give you, other than my very life and my poors skills, as worthless as they seem to your greatness. Killing me won't have any lasting consequences for you. If that is what you have to do, then proceed. »  
You had looked at the eruptive skeleton straight in the eyelights, though there was no defiance in your tone nor in your attitude. You were resigned. You didn't like it, but there was truely nothing you could do...  
And you had been so close to snap. So close to ruin yourself to them. At least you managed to regain some dignity, if that were any compfort ; at least you'd die being yourself.  
His gaze started to glow a bit brighter. As if trying to pierce through you. You felt a slight uneasiness that you were quick to dismiss with a soft breath. His eyesockets narrowed ever so slightly.

« … IS THAT IT ? IS THAT ALL THE WORTH YOU GIVE TO YOUR LIFE ?  
\- I value my life. I don't want to die, but we aren't here to discuss what I want.  
\- VERY TRUE. »  
The boss leaned into his backseat and resumed trying to pierce you with his glance. Nothing happened.  
« SANS. CHECK THEIR SOUL. »  
Now that statement was so heavy in implications you couldn't start thinking about them. And it was a command said so casually, as if he'd ordered to bring him a coffee.  
« 'k. »  
And Sans was just as casual as if he was bringing his boss a coffee. He walked and held himself to the desk, in front of you. His eyelights shone slightly brighter while piercing you. Nothing happened, as the trace of uneasiness was shook off with a simple breath.  
His eyesockets narrowed and he frowned. His eyelights became even brighter. You breathed calmly away the slight discompfort his scrutiny provoked in your chest, and eventually, as a single drop of sweat pearled on his skull, he closed his eyes and shook his head.  
« sorry, boss. must be too tired fer that shit. i dun' see anythin'.  
\- I BELIEVE YOU ARE CRUSHED BY FATIGUE, SANS. BUT I AM VERY WELL RESTED AND I DON'T SEEM TO MANAGE TO SEE IT EITHER, AS SURPRISING AS IT IS, GIVEN MY GREAT ABILITY AT SCRUTINIZING ONE'S SOUL. »  
Now that startled Sans, as he turned to face his boss with wide eyesockets.  
« Is it possible... » Both skeletons turned towards you as Casey Dunn started talking. « Is it possible that a human has no soul ? »  
Sans shrugged.  
« yeah, we've seen that. 's kinda rare though. most o' the biggest bastards go dickin' around 'cuz they do have a soul, they just' make poor choices to show their care. but it ain't what we're havin' here. they have a soul, we just can't see it. 's pretty weird. 's first time i see that.  
\- How can you tell they have a soul if you don't see it ?  
\- 's kinda like heat. ya dun' see da fire, ya can still feel its warmth. b'sides... »  
He stabbed his gaze into your eyes once more.  
« emotions are the realm o' the soul... an' i clearly saw them tremble. i saw them gulp for air and i saw them cry. »  
Only now did you noticed the fresh trail of wet on your right cheek. That was a bewilderment to you, as you couldn't remember the last time you've cried.  
« a single, lone drop o' tear. so much fer their life, eh... but still a tear. so they're not above everythin', after all. »  
You distinctly saw his smug grin widen. Why did he have to enjoy this ? If it was to please him this way, you weren't sure you liked the idea of having a soul that much. Despite it being the ultimate thing that made you who you were. Learning the existence of your soul thanks to Sans provoked mixed, conflicted feelings, and you didn't like it.

Because if you had one, that meant it could be ripped from you.

Papyrus resumed talking with a sarcastical tone:  
« THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THE DEMONSTRATION, SANS. NOW, WHAT DO WE DO ABOUT THEM.  
\- told ya. kill'm. can't trust a guy so unreadable they manage to hide their own soul.  
\- But, isn't this an asset to us ?  
\- AN ASSET ? EXPLAIN YOURSELF, CASEY.  
\- Well, that could explain how I didn't notice them back at the office -other than the fact I was utterly stupid and tired-. I mean, if they are so stealthy they even manage to hide their soul, it could be possible they can surprise even monsters like you.  
\- … I SEE HOW THIS COULD BE USED AGAINST OUR ENEMIES, BUT I DON'T LIKE THAT IDEA VERY MUCH, CASEY. I'D RATHER NOT BE ''SURPRISED'' BY ANYBODY, ESPECIALLY A PERSON THAT I CAN'T- THAT I MOMENTARILY DON'T SUCCEED AT READING THE INTENTIONS OF. »  
Sans nodded. So that was what he disliked in you so much. That made sense... These skeletons were very threatening, and there was no doubt they were strong. But if they could be taken by surprise, their strength probably wouldn't save them. You... were a threat to them, you realised. That was absurd! You'd never even think of attacking them. Or anybody. You wouldn't fight for your own life! You decided to talk for yourself :  
« My intentions are fairly simple : staying alive. I don't know anything else than cleaning, fixing and so on. I have no such an ambition as stealthily stealing anybody, let alone harm them by surprise. Granted my words are no guarantee, but... But this is it. I swear I won't even attempt anything against you.  
\- got it. but as you said, no guarantee. can't trust ya. ya could try to play dirty tricks on us.  
\- Well... I must admit I am in a rather uncompfortable position, and I assume that anybody, put in my place, would swear and promise anything. As for me, though, I've never been anything but sincere. If I intended to play tricks on you, as you put it, I would be telling anything that could help myself. But I don't. I've only been honest and direct to you even if it didn't help your mercy.  
\- I believe them. From the very start, they have been incredibly cooperative and realistic.  
\- to what end ? they could'a planned it all. been sent here.  
\- FAIR SUSPICION. THEY COULD BE A SPY, AFTER ALL.  
\- And how could I manage to survive this interview, and leave the place alive ? »  
You seemed to have raised a good point, as both skeletons lend thoughtful eyes on you.  
« BY GAINING OUR TRUST, I SUPPOSE.  
\- Can I do that ?  
\- … NO.  
\- Then I can't be a spy.  
\- BUT THEN YOU'D BE WORTHY OF OUR TRUST, WHICH MAKES YOU A POTENTIAL SPY.  
\- … Then you should better not trust me. »  
You had no idea where this conversation was leading you, but it was going somewhere. You preferred that than the previous life-threatening tension.

The boss pinched his nasal bridge and leaned in his backseat with a dramatic sigh.  
« WELL. CASEY, WHAT DO YOU THINK ? »  
Casey kept silence for a moment, then spoke :  
« I think... I think they are not a spy... but we'd have to keep an eye on them. They could... well, they could still help here and there. There are always chores to do here. If they were to rat us out... they'd pay. We have moles in the main institutions, so I don't think their informations could really endanger the syndicate that much. We can still make some small research on their regular contacts, to see if there's anything suspicious. »  
The boss nodded as Casey talked, then thought for a little bit, before making a decision:  
« ALRIGHT, THEN. DO THAT.  
\- Me ?  
\- YES, CASEY. YOUR SHIT. YOUR RESPONSABILITY. AS OF YOU... » The boss reported his attention back to you. « THERE ARE INDEED SOME CHORES MY GUYS DO RATHER UNWILLINGLY. I AM ALL ABOUT RESPONSABILIZING PEOPLE AND MAKE THEM CLEAN THEIR OWN SHIT, BUT HAVING SOMEBODY ENTITLED TO HELP IN SUCH ANNOYING THINGS WOULDN'T HARM I SUPPOSE. »  
You blinked. Was he- was he really considering sparing your life ? He clearly stated that you would be nearly useless. Why would he spare you for no reason ? You cast a glance at Sans, who seemed as bewildered as you felt. You couldn't jauge mux Dunn's reaction for they were still behind you. You reported you attention back to the tall skeleton. He seemed to realise his decision was surprising everyone and he said :  
« WHAT ? WE CAN FIND A USE OF THEM. I MAINTAIN THE IDEA OF A WITNESS RANCH. MIGHT AS WELL TRY THIS IDEA WITH THIS ONE. »  
You felt your wrists being tugged behind you, as Casey Dunn released them. You then put your sore hands back in front of you, massaging your wrists, all the while wondering if the boss had just humored his subordinates.  
« YOU ARE NOT OUT OF TROUBLE, THOUGH. WE STILL CAN'T TRUST YOU YET. YOUR COLD, CALM AND DETERMINED DEMEANOR IN FRONT OF YOUR FATE MAY BE ADMIRABLE, BUT CHARACTER DOESN'T MAKE EVERYTHING. YOU WILL BE CONFINED IN THE HIDEOUT AND YOU WILL HELP EVERYBODY IN SIMPLE CHORES. IF YOU TRY TO ESCAPE, TO SEND A MESSAGE, CALL FOR HELP, OR IF YOU DO ANYTHING SUSPICIOUS, YOU ARE DEAD. THIS WILL GO ON UNTIL I JUDGE YOU FREE OF CHARGE. »

You looked at him as his words sank in your mind.  
« And about my babies.. ?  
\- BABIES ? WHAT BABIES ? YOU SAID YOU HAD NO FAMILY.  
\- I said no one would be looking for me, » you elaborated carefully, « but I have a family. My two dogs, my cat and my three rats are my family, waiting for me at home. What... do we do about them ? »  
You were unsure of the use of ''we'' in that question. You weren't sure the boss would like the association of you and them it implied, for you were just granted mercy. You clearly saw that Sans didn't like it at all. The boss though didn't point it out as he answered :  
« DOGS. YOU HAVE DOGS.  
\- Yes. Two good doggies. Their names are Ranx and Rox.  
\- DOGS. THEY ARE LOYAL. FRIENDLY. CAPABLE. FIERCE AND TERRIBLE WHEN NEEDED. DOGS ARE EVERYTHING I LOOK FOR IN A SUBORDINATE. »  
You nodded, hope rising in your chest the more the skeletal boss praised dogs. That was before he destroyed it with the following statement :  
« I HATE DOGS.  
\- ... Why ? You said they were almost perfect.  
\- THERE IS NO SUCH A THING AS ''PERFECTION'', EXCEPT IN THE GREATNESS THAT I AM SHAPED WITH. THIS IS EVEN MORE TRUE WITH DOGS, FOR THEY ARE PERFECT ON EVERY ASPECTS... IF IT WEREN'T FOR THEIR UNSPEAKABLE ATTRACTION FOR BONES. »  
You deflated ever so slightly. Of course none of them could see it, since you had regained all control over yourself.  
« What about this love of bones ?  
\- WELL, AS YOU MIGHT HAVE NOTICED, I AM A SKELETON. AS SUCH, I AM ENTIRELY MADE OF THOSE. THEIR LOVE FOR MY LEGS IS RATHER EMARASSING AND GREATLY ANNOYING. »  
That made sense, you supposed a mafia boss couldn't be taken seriously when a doggie was joyfully chewing his tibia.  
« Mine are very well educated. I am sure that with little effort, they can overcome their attraction to your majestuous limbs. All it has to take is try.  
\- hey. ya dun' seriously plan on turnin' the place into a fuckin' petshop ?  
\- I only merely suggest to let me see my pets, or at least tell them goodbye before leaving them to a shelter. They are the sole reason why I could ever try to escape this place. If you were magnanim enough to grant me permission to ensure they are fine, you would have complete hold over me.  
\- VERY WELL. CASEY, YOU WILL TAKE THEIR PETS TO YOUR HOME AND TAKE CARE OF THEM. »  
This startled Sans once more.  
« boss !! ya can't put fuckin' dogs in my house !  
\- YES I CAN. IT'S CASEY'S RESPONSIBILITY. BESIDES, YOUR JOB TAKES YOU HERE AND THERE ALL THE TIME, WHAT TIME DO YOU SPEND IN YOUR HOME ANYWAY ? »  
Sans grumbled unintelligible things, but dropped it.  
« IF THIS HUMAN CREATES PROBLEM, WE WILL HAVE THEIR FAMILY AT HAND. THEY ARE RIGHT, THIS IS THE PERFECT WAY TO HAVE A HOLD OVER THEM. MAY THEY SERVE DILIGENTLY, THEIR PETS WILL BE FINE. MAY THEM BE TROUBLESOME... THEIR PETS WILL PAY FOR THEM. » He weighted his threat by sinking his red eyelights deep into you. « SO. SANS, CASEY, GO TAKE THE WITNESS TO THEIR PETS. BE WARY. MAKE SURE THEY DON'T TRY ANYTHING WITH THEM, YOU KNOW DOGS CAN BE TRAINED TO ATTACK, AND RATS CAN PEDDLE MESSAGES. PROCEED TO THE EXCHANGE CAREFULLY, THEN TAKE THEM BACK HERE SO THEY CAN START BEING A BIT USEFUL.  
\- they're more a burden than anythin', boss. seriously, takin' care of pets ? 's a lot to ask fer jus' a... handymaid.  
\- See it like this : you will win loyal compagnons if you treat them well. It could be enjoyable, more of a pleasure than a chore, if you give them a chance. »  
Sans glared at you.  
« yer startin' gettin' on my nerves, witch. remember yer life worths nuthin' ta me. so does those o' yer pets. keep yer cockhole shut er mind yer words, really carefully, cuz i dun' give a shit o' what ya think. »  
Again with this name. Yesterday too, he called you ''witch'' twice.  
« May I ask you why you call me that ? A witch ?  
\- ya didn't hear me ?  
\- Ah... my apologies.  
\- Well, I don't get why you call them that either, Sans. » said his lover.  
« ya really not guessin' ? »  
He then took the broom and handed it to you. Perplex, you took it.  
« ta-da. there's a witch. »  
You heard mux Dunn facepalm behind you. As for you, you were still perplex.  
« I... I'm sorry, but I really don't see how holding a broom makes me a witch.  
\- ya serious ?  
\- ME NEITHER, SANS. AND I DON'T CARE EITHER WAY. NOW IF ALL OF YOU COULD LEAVE MY OFFICE AND MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL. AND MAKE SURE TO TAKE THAT FUCKIN' BROOM AWAY. »

Out you were, then. Sans looked really pissed now. Well. You had survived. Now you just had to keep on doing what you had always done, with extra carefulness, and you would stay alive. Now if you could find a way to get Sans to dislike you less, this surely would significantly increase your life span. On that new resolution, you were relaxed and determined enough to smile. Which you held back, since you gathered Sans disliked your smile. All considered, this situation could use some improvement, but it wasn't as bad as it seemed. You let yourself being blinded again as Sans and Casey brought you back to the car to head to your apartment.

***

The witch (Sans maintained the nickname, they were weird as shit and they had a nack for brooms, that was witchy enough to him) obeyed his demand and didn't talk unless necessary for the whole trip to their ''apartment''. They didn't complain when Casey blinded them again. Why would they though. They never complained about anything, except for their harsh language. Which seemed to have stopped bothering them today. Welp, they learnt fast.  
When Sans drove in the inhabited area, searching for the adress they gave him before being blinded, he grew tensed. Could they try to ambush them ?  
Well. If they tried, they'd regret it. Could be tough to manage though, Casey and him had had a very short, unresting night and they had limited ammunitions, even if they took some more before leaving.  
He approached the abandoned factory and stopped the car. He re-checked the adress. That could be only it. He crossed Casey's gaze, and they seemed just as suspicious as he was. Well. That was a weird place to live in, he couldn't imagine anyone else than hobos, junkies and slumdogs sticking around here. They went out of the car anyway and removed the blind on the witch's eyes.

« no neighbors, uh. »  
Sans commented, looking around. Not only no neighbors, but also no nothing. Not even a trace of the urban wildlife you'd be expecting to see in an inhabited area with a wasteland nearby. Weird as shit and rather unsettling. He didn't ask for an answer but they explained anyway :  
« I prefer quiet areas. »  
Which explained nothing. So much for a simple order to shut the fuck up.  
He decided not to get angry, for once. He sighed and asked for the few things that was now bugging him:  
« how can ya afford this place ? it's shit, but it's big.  
\- I have a deal with the owner. He lets me live here in exchange of some favors.  
\- what kind o' favors ?  
\- Well, guarding the place, first of all. Then it is just small things, as checking some of the other building he owns. Do some errands, like delivering things to his tenants in the city.  
\- how'd'ya manage to guard the whole place by yourself ?  
\- I have dogs, and Abaddon. Also the first floor is impracticable, one would just stupidly risk their life entering by the front door. »  
Two dogs ? Was that enough ? Maybe. Sans couldn't imagine before that they could have trained their dogs to attack people, as Papyrus had suggested, but now, he wasn't so sure. Might as well get prepared for anything. And what's with calling a cat after a biblic demon of destruction ? Sans had few knowledge of human culture, but knew more than enough, especially on subject that was more or less associated with monster kind.  
« Nice place, » Casey commented. « And affordable. Too bad you won't be able to hold on the deal with the owner once you move to the hideout.  
\- I think the new deal I made with Don Scintillating Skeleton prevails the deal I made with him. »  
That. Was. Unexpected.  
Sans snorted, then couldn't hold back his growing laughter. Casey laughed too, tears pearling in the corner of their almond-shaped eyes. Both of them were way too exhausted to handle any small bit of humour without living a near-death experience.

« What did I say ?  
\- ya- snort- how'dya call the boss ?  
\- Don Scintillating Skeleton. Isn't the Syndicate named after him ? »  
Casey and Sans tried to calm their hilarity. Unsuccessfully. Well. He really didn't like this witch, but they could be fun. He didn't expect them to be fun. Casey managed, between too snorts, to say :  
« It is true your brother is scintillating with greatness.  
\- true, true. ya know i always hated the Syndicate's full name, but now i see its real, deep, meaningful sens.  
\- You're having a real fucking epiphany, there. »  
They took their time to calm down. Exhaustion didn't help them, but they would stop eventually. The witch was standing there, poker faced, hands on their sides, patiently waiting for them to finish. Such a snobbish piece of shit. A funny snobbish piece of shit... ''Don Scintillating Skeleton''. Eh.  
« eh eh eh... eh. friendly advice there, witch : dun' call'm like that in front o'm. i can't figure if he'd take it as an honorable title or if he'd take it as a mockery. ya can't risk it. »  
Why was he helping them ? He might as well let them unknowingly take the risk. Could have been fun to watch. And also an opportunity for betting on the outcome with the guys. He cursed himself. Shit, he really shouldn't have told them that.  
« Thank you for the advice, sir. May I-.. ? This way. »  
They lead them around the brick, shattered glass and metal building to the discreet back door and opened it, surprisingly easily given how heavy this metal door should be. It screeched loudly on its rusted hinges, which was odd given they should be using it on a regular basis, and the noise provoked distant loud barks.

Distant, yet really loud.

The barks of really big hounds.

All amusement had left him as Sans gestured Casey to stay behind him, and he braced himself.

He really, really didn't like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wrote itself quite naturally.  
Yeah I rated that Mature and I put a warning tag fo graphic depiction of violence. That will come. In time.  
For now our main character is going pretty well.  
For now.


	4. Skeletons in the witch's closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sans is assaulted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be mistakes here and there, sorry for that. I will correct anything spotted in the comments !

Sans and Casey were looking down at what was the smallest dog they had ever seen.  
The poor pet was looking back, its eyes so widened it looked like it was about to fall from its tiny head.

« hey, chihua'. it's ya.  
\- No, Sans. You can't say that.  
\- oh i can. look, it's tiny. »  
Casey sighed.  
« I already have some issues with that nickname you gave me, Sans. And it isn't even a chihuahua.  
\- of course it's a chihuahua, it's so smol.  
\- No, Sans. It's a small Pinscher. And I mean, look at it ! Chihuahuas go straight against bigger dogs barking like they're tough, but this one ? It seems so scared ! It trembles so hard it looks like they're being unbalanced by the shakes of their own heart ! »  
As to approve of that, the small Pinscher yipped pitifully, shivering on its thin little paws.  
« Don't tell me this poor tiny frightened pup has anything comparable to me, Sans.  
\- welp, it's got glasses. »  
The tiny dog indeed had its eyes circled by a line of black fur, like a mask, that would get thiner up to its flappy ears.  
« … Yes, it has glasses. Also it's brown and black, but those are the sole things I have in common with it.  
\- it's kinda cute, too... »  
Oh that was cheesy. Casey looked up to Sans with a smile. That turned into a smirk when they punched his arm and motioned to the nearby big, white bulldog jumping a pillow on the floor, rubbing its erected penis like its life depended on it.  
« This one looks like you. »  
Sans glared down at the huffing, puffing, drooling, tongue-lolling gross creature.  
« … yep, dat's me alright. »  
He lowered himself to Casey's height and produced a low growl, slightly parting his clawed jaw to allow a limp of read slimy tongue to slip out. Casey snorted and Sans regained his normal composure with a smug smile. Their hostage cleared their throat to gain their attention.  
« Hem, may I introduce you to Ranx » they showed the wanking bulldog « and Rox » they showed the frozen, shivering, frightened Pinscher. « The terrible, fierced wardogs whose barks scare all intruders out.  
\- how the fuck do they sound so big when they're not ?  
\- The place's architecture. I live on the second floor, but their barks echoe in the first floor and get twisted, deepened until they sound like a threat.  
\- This is brilliantly calculated, » praised Casey. The dog master shook their head though :  
« No, it wasn't calculated. It just happened to turn out this way. Now, I wonder if you both are hungry ?  
\- nope. go pack their stuff and we're out. »  
Casey's stomach voiced its disapproval. They adressed a sorry smile to Sans, who wanted to be over this quick. He sighed and followed when the annoying witch lead Casey to their kitchen.

This was a surprisingly neat apartment, contrasting with the outer looks of the abandoned building. And it was big. It sprawled all over the factory's second floor, and despite the raw factory looks of it, the place was nicely warm, brightly lit with huge windows. The concrete floor was partly covered with carpets that drew paths between largerly carpeted areas, standing for room delimitations in lieu of walls, since, well, there were almost no walls. The ceiling was incredibly high compared to an average human's house, and it was rather compfortable for a monster his height, who usually felt almost cramped in human's homes (he could only imagine what it's like for the rest of his kind, that was mostly higher than him). Sans had to admit : this was a nice place. Everything here seemed to come from a wasteland, but all of it was clean, fixed and functional. It looked poor, but it looked welcoming and compfortable. He lent eyes on some strange sort of machineries serving who knows what purpose. He couldn't help his curiosity :  
« what's dat fer ? » he chined at a wooden wheel by the wall, looking like an old ship wheel.  
« The blinds » they answered. « The windows are really big, and though it is pleasant to have light, it warms the place way too much in summer. So I made a system to blind them properly for hot seasons.  
\- You built everything here ?  
\- I re-used most of what was already around... »  
Sans listened as both humans started talking about the few sorts of machineries, including a big, wobbly clock that somehow worked despite its wonkiness. Their hostage waved at a big table surrounded with mismatched chairs, stools and a bench.

Way too many seats for a lone person.

Casey sat and watched their... ''host'', since apparently they were their host now, their host-age (eh), draw a tupperware from a big fridge.

A rather big fridge, filled with food and tupperwares. Way too much food for one person.

They went to heat the food in a pan. Sans placed a hand on Casey's shoulder and squeezed slightly. They nodded as they got the message : be careful. Don't eat what they haven't tasted first. Sans looked around for any other suspicious details.

The place was vaste. Even with a lot of furniture, it seemed almost empty. There were easels on which were placed half poorly painted canvases, covered with a thick layer of dust. He saw the two dogs couches, and a sort of home-made cat-castel. He didn't see the rats or their cage though. All three, captors and hostage, were currently in the kitchen-dining area, and not far away, leaned against the most widowed wall of the place was a sort of home-made greenhouse. Tomatoes, potatoes and peppers were growing along with various other plants. He walked away and saw what looked like a living area : a carpeted zone with a big shelf crushed under hundreds of books, an old radio put on a short table surrounded by two large sofas and three armchairs. Why would a lonely person need that much furniture. He then observed an area that was shortly raised from the floor. Above it was settled a system of tubes. That must be the bathroom. No walls around to hide it. Well, a person who lives alone doesn't need that much privacy. He identified, further away in the shadows, a carpeted zone occupied with... no less than three bunk beds. He looked at their host-age above his shoulder. They were dressing the table for three, with a polite smile adressed to Casey. They were quiet. Apparently their conversation had come to a stop.

Oh you were fucking with him, weren't you. 

***

You were serving the heated stew to your... well. Turned out they were guests now.  
Sans had left the kitchen to wander around, and you couldn't blame him for looking through everything. He wasn't there to be polite, he was there to take your family away.  
As you saw him coming back, you noticed his grin was unnaturely wide, well, wider than you saw it before, as if forced. This... did not seem good.

« have done a tour of the place, hope ya dun' mind. »  
He couldn't care less if you did, and you knew it. You dismissed it with a polite nod, though, and sat to eat. He sat too and oggled the food for a second, then looked up at you. Neither him nor Casey were eating yet. Only when you had swallowed a spoonful of stew did they start eating.  
Fine. That was fair. Although you had cooked -well, heated up- in front of them, so they could have guessed it wasn't poisoned.  
Sans took his bowl and shove half of its content in his mouth, then swallowed in one gulp. Well. He did have a big mouth, so why not. He took a second to consider the stew and you wondered if it wasn't to his taste. You didn't really care if he liked it, but if he did, you wouldn't help but feel a tiny bit happy about it. So you found yourself expectantly looking at mux Dunn and Sans's reaction. The first one kept on eating, visibly holding themself in order to eat properly as they were really hungry. The other one took his bowl back and finished it in a second gulp.  
He must have liked it, after all.  
You felt a tiny bit of pride blossom in your chest, and you let it warm you up a bit, before reluctantly breathing it away. You couldn't get yourself carried away. Sure, you were tempted to take pleasure where you found it, but it might make things worse. They weren't here to please you after all.  
So you kept on eating the stew. It felt nice to eat, because you were hungry. Although, you never needed a lot of food to feel full. Food tasted bland in your mouth too. You didn't dislike it though, so you never had any particular issue with it. As long as it kept you alive. Besides, satisfying your need and feeling satiated was pleasant enough, despite the blandness you couldn't get out of your mouth.

Sans put his bowl back on the table, loudly, getting your attention. He licked his fangs with a red, slimy tongue. You couldn't help but stare at it for the time it was visible. You hoped he didn't noticed, because this was really rude.  
« so. nice place ya got there. » He said, looking around. He didn't notice you staring at his tongue. You eyed mux Dunn, but they were focused on their food. Hopefully you got away with your rudeness.  
« Thank you. » You answered.  
« how many live here ? » Why did he ask that, you wondered. You thought you situation had been established pretty clearly. You answered though, as it would be rude not to do :  
« Me, my two dogs, my cat and my three rats.  
\- no one else ?  
\- No. »  
Sans humorlessly chuckled. That seemed funny to him, for some reason. In deserving-a-hand-chopped-off-funny. You felt your back tense, and you breathed the fear away. You had to remain calm and relaxed. This didn't have to be hard. If only you kept your pace, everything would go smoothly.  
« i guess yer six pets eat at yer table an' sleep in a bed, then.  
\- No, they have their bowls and couch on the floor.  
\- well, then why » He kicked an empty chair, startling you « is there so many seats at yer table ? »  
You didn't answer, focused on calming your stressed heart.  
« an' why is there so much food in yer fridge if it's not to feed a freakin' big family ? »  
You didn't answer, seeing where this was going. You didn't like where this was going.  
« an' why » He stood up. « is there no less than three fuckin' bunk beds over there ?  
\- I used to have roommates » you managed to answer. You looked at him in the eyes, calmly. This was the truth after all. You only had to tell as many truths as he needed to let it down. Not too many, you hoped. You kept on :  
« They are gone, long ago. All of them. They will never return. I just didn't find the time to re-organize the place after their departure.  
\- That doesn't explain the food, » mux Dunn pointed out. « There is still way too much cooked food in your fridge for you alone.  
\- About the food, it is rather simple : I am well organized. »  
This didn't seem to explain anything as Sans lend a hand on the table to lean towards you in a menacing stance. So you elaborated :  
« My workplace is in centertown, rather far from my home, and I also have the few errands my landlord send me to do. As a result, I go home really late at night and leave really early in the morning. All my spare time goes to treating my pets, take them on walks, washing them, playing with them. That leaves me very few time for myself. So, on my one day off, I cook for all the upcoming week. That is why you saw so many containers of cooked food in my fridge. I replenished it the day before yesterday. Also I keep my pet's food refrigerated too. »  
They didn't find anything to respond. It was just the truth, therefore there couldn't be anything suspicious to it. Sans sat back down slowly, keeping his red eyelights on your face. His scrutiny called a slight uneasiness again, but you breathed it off.

« their names, description, an' adress if ya have it.  
\- Excuse me ? »  
Sans leaned forward again, still sitting this time.  
« names. descriptions. adresses. »  
You sighed, lowering your gaze on your food. You barely touched it, yet you weren't hungry anymore.  
« I said no one would be looking for me. You don't need to know them. »  
Sans slamed the table. You expected that kind of reaction so it didn't startle you this time.  
« i am the one ta decide if we need it er not. now spit it out. »  
You kept on looking your bland, cooling stew. You felt unwanted memories resurging [criesshadowsdustbloodscreamshidinghidinghidingquietquietquiet]. You blocked them.  
The sound of tip-taps caught your attention. Sans was tapping the table with his fingers, showing he was loosing patience. You shared a look with mux Dunn. Their expression was eloquent enough : you better answer.  
You sighed and gave him what he asked for :

« Hoel, 23 years old, he/him, caucasian, black hair, blue eyes, scarred nose, 5'10''. The musician. Maël, 39 years old, they/them, caucasian, blond, green eyes, freckles, 5'5''. The comedian. Naïma, 26 years old, she/her, black, black hair, blind eyes, tattooed back, 5'10''. The dancer. Sunny, 13 years old, they/them, caucasian, red hair, brown eyes, stutter, 3'7''. The butterfly. Philo, 21 years old, she/her, hispanic, black hair, brown eyes, tattooed left shoulder, 6'6''. The storyteller. Meron, 18 years old, he/him, metis, black hair, golden brown eyes, candy addict, 6'10''. The joker. »  
Both your captor-guests seemed taken aback by the flow of detailed information, until you paused. Then, you answered Sans's last question :

« Adress : this place. First floor. »

***

Most of the first floor had collapsed down to the basement. Going there wasn't easy, and a wrong step could send anybody down a dangerous fall. It was uncannily dark, the big windows being so dirty it prevented light from filtering inside. Some were shattered though, which allowed just to see were to put your feet, but you wouldn't wander around so you waited near the staircase. Mux Dunn was standing beside you, as Sans wouldn't let them mindlessly risk their life. Not that they intended to do so anyway : they didn't even argue when Sans told them to stay there. You guess they'd be better off resting at home than having this little trip down your past on their day off.  
Sans was lighting the floor at the bottom of a big hole, silently observing the quiet remains of your former room mates : bone scattered around, indistinct forms of their clothes so dirty it had taken the color of the floor, ragged carpets still holding some bones together, spilled undefined whitish dust. All used to be covered with dirt and wood chips, but wild life had spilled it all around, uncovering everything. There were no trace of the flowers anymore, you noticed. Yet there was the lingering smell of a familiar odd perfume. You wondered if the smell was real, or if your mind produced it from burried memories.

After a certain time, Sans climbed back next to you with a surprising ease, given his assumed weight that would have stuck a human down there.  
« nuthin' show these are yer room mates, and not just sum random junkies who stumbled an' fell.  
\- They didn't fall, they were thrown down here. » You corrected. You didn't argue the term ''junkie'' though, even though you wouldn't word it like that. To that, he lit your face.  
« who ? »  
You saw yourself dragging the discarded corpses wrapped in a carpet. You saw yourself lost and desperate, pushing the remains down the hole and hastly cover them with anything. You saw yourself cleaning the mess behind, cleaning, bleaching, cleansing, scrubbing again and again and again until your hands lost their surface layers of skin. You closed your eyes for a second. You forced those memories away. Then you opened your eyes again.  
You didn't want to answer that, but you had to give an answer. You despised lying, so you couldn't make up a story. You wouldn't have had the imagination for that, anyway. So you skipped some truths and told others instead, studiously keeping the same equal tone you were used to :  
« I didn't ask for their name. I didn't see their faces either. I only know they were around five, or four.  
\- so ya were there when it happened ?  
\- Yes. »  
He fell silent to that, removing the light from your face to turn it back down the hole. He didn't question your choice of words, which was good. You didn't want to elaborate any further. You suddenly felt something softly touching your good shoulder and you flinched, as mux Dunn withdrew their hand back in their pocket, mutturing an embarassed ''sorry''. You realised they were trying to comfort you... that sparked an odd warmth in your chest, that quickly was dismissed with uneasiness. You almost felt at ease, but keeping your pace and quiet had always been difficult down here, since you couldn't bring yourself to breathe properly. As if the strong smell of death could still invade your lungs and cloud your mind. It had long left the place, though. You knew you could breathe. But it was hard nonetheless. And that odd perfume... You nodded to the Secretary with a soft smile to ease their embarassement, then focused on breathing slowly. You hand reached to your front pocket, seeking for the soft touch of Squeaky's hairs. You thought better of it and left your hand back to your side.  
« why. »  
You didn't expect that question. Why what ? Why did they do that ? Why did you hide something ? As you didn't answer, Sans repeated, unusually patient :  
« why. »  
You forced a deep inhale, which was almost painful as your lungs were reluctant, and answered with the same tone :  
« I have no idea. I didn't ask.  
\- … why did they spare ya. »  
Was that what his first ''why'' really meant from the start, or was it a whole new different ''why'' ? You couldn't ask him to clarify, so you simply answered :  
« They didn't find me. I was hiding in the big clock box. » You fought back unwanted memories. It was harder down here. [hidinghidinghidingquietquietquietquietquietquiet] « I think the tics covered the noise of my breath. So they didn't notice me. I was too quiet. I stayed hidden. Until there was no more noise.  
\- Is there anything, anything that could help identify the murderers ? »  
You looked at the Secretary. You couldn't think of any reason why they would want to find the murderers. You looked at Sans. He was looking at you expectantly.  
« I think I could recognize their voices.  
\- Do you remember if they said names, or anything that might help track them down ? »  
An odd chuckle escaped your lips. You cut it off right away and breathed. You tried to fight off the resurging sounds that came back from within. You failed.  
[hold'm!hold'm!- she's tight fuck she's tight- sniff'it'all- bind'm- eat it- tastes good- monster whore- hold still- dance fer us- /laughs//laughs/] You tried again. [/laughs//laughs/- bastard's too much fun- don't run-/cries//cries//cries//cries//cries/- soft skin- fuckin'good- gimme the knife- he's still hot 'nough- look at their face-]/-///]///-/]////-////-///] You succeeded.  
« They said a lot of things. Nothing relevant. »  
The lovers shared a look you failed to interpret.  
« Now could we please go usptairs ? This place is messy. » You muttered when you turned for the stairs : « And disquieting. »  
You started to the stairs without waiting for them. Climbing back up on the insecure metal stairs, you heard Sans commenting :  
« ya live above a fuckin' pauper's grave. ouch. hey... »  
Mux Dunn had hit his ribs. They probably tried to spare you their lover's bluntness, but you had heard it anyway, and that would be rude to just ignore him :  
« I never thought of it this way, but I suppose you are right.  
\- must've stink.  
\- Yes, it was rather inconvinient. For a short while. But I covered them and treated the place properly, so it wasn't such a bother. »  
You remembered that once the strong smell had faltered and the products had vanished, wildlife had taken its share. That's when you met your pets. Then wildlife escaped the place to never come back, except your family.  
You climbed back in silence, keenly aware that behind you, your captors were looking at your back.

***

Casey didn't know what to think. This wasn't what they had planned for their day off. They had planned to be at home and sleep soundly. Then they would have chatted with their brother, who would come back from college. Maybe they would have had sex with Sans. They were still bugging over how anyone could live above the rotting dead bodies of their friends when they made back to the apartment. The place didn't seem as neat anymore. They eyed suspiciously at the incredible amount of carpets on the floor, drawing a convenient path between the areas and to the stairs. Then a thud starteled them : their host-age (ha Sans would like it) had put a box at your feet. It was filled with stuff for pets : food, toys, tools, a large cage, a couch, bowls...  
« I suppose you want to check these. May I explain a few things ? »  
Casey nodded. How could they be so calm. At a moment, downstairs, they didn't seem so good, which was to be expected with... all that heaviness. Yet they didn't seem broken either. But how could they behave so... normally, now, after showing two strangers the remains of their friends they litterally live above which. Like changing floor erased the presence of death. They died here, not downstairs.  
They shook their head and politely asked them to repeat, as they had spaced out. Then Casey focused on listening to the indications. Yes. Pups. Taking care of pups. Rat food. Nothing to do with corpses. Puppies. Cat food. Nice puppies.  
The bulldog approached, Ranx was his name, shaking his butt, looking at the box then up to Casey then up to his master. He seemed to be smiling, his drooling tongue lolling in happiness. Rox was curious too, but preferred looking from under the short table.  
« shit-ya-motha-fuckin' !!! »  
Sans caught all attention as he shook his right arm and tried to free it of a sort of furry hide with his other hand. Nope, that furry hide was moving and climbed ferocily quick up to his skull and scatched his face. Sans swore again as he put his hand to his hurt skull, while the thing that assaulted him ran and jumped on the back seat of one of the sofas.  
« This is Abaddon. Abaddon, these are your caretakers. »  
The big, hairy, greyish-stripped-black cat of undefined savage noble bloodline glared at Casey with her blazing golden eyes. Then she moved her attention back to Sans and spat angrily.  
Casey walked over their lover, slightly worried. They would have ordinarily been amused to see him loose his temper over being assaulted by a cat, but right now, they were a bit shaken from the macabre discovery and needed to make sure everything was okay. Wheather this was genuine worry or just an excuse to get close to him, yearning for his comforting embrace.  
Sans grumbled undignified insults, gaze stabbing the devilish cat, healing his scratches with magic. He pat Casey's head, which wasn't exactly what they wanted, but it would do.  
Their host-age whistled. Startled, Casey watched as three big rats ran from under the furnitures to their master. They took them in their arms and approached their captors.  
« These are Straw, » they designated the white rat, « Wood » they showed the brown rat, « and Bricks. » They caressed the last, dark grey rat. « These three females shouldn't give you any trouble. They are used of being let free, as they learnt not to munch everything, but in a whole new environment they might get confused and rely on their old instincts. So you better keep them in their cage. Although I advise you to let them run free at least once a day.  
\- hey. »  
They looked up at Sans.  
« i can't guarantee yer pets will live very long. 'specially that fuckin' demon cat » he spat, designating Abaddon, « if it keeps bein' an ass. »  
She meowled back and spat.  
« Well. » answered the pet master. « As I gathered, they are mux Dunn's responsibility. I'd prefer if they were well treated but I wouldn't be able to prevent you from harming them. » They started petting the rats. « Still. I don't think your boss would appreciate. If I recall well, taking care of them is a sort of... punishment given to you both. It doesn't seem that Don Scint- uhm, the boss is fond of unfinished work-  
\- yeah, i know my boss better than ya do. »  
Sans waved them off, pissed.  
« welp. ima wait at da car. »  
He sarted towards the back stairs, but the host-age stood calmly in his way. Sans stopped, and with a very low, calm tone anyone would identify as dangerous, he said :  
« out. »  
They didn't step out of his way. Instead, they asked quietly :  
« Would you please give me a hand ? »  
Casey almost expected Sans to take their word litterally and slap them on the face to shove them off his way. Surprisingly though, he sighed and complied instead. He presented his hand and they put delicately the three rats on it. They held all three in his large, boney palm, and he stood there, stupid, glaring down at them as they stood on their tiny butts and raised their chest to look at him. Casey smiled. Seeing their gruff lover with three small beings standing in his palm was... well that wasn't a sight they would see often.  
The quiet host moved to the short table and took soothingly the frightened little Pinscher. They went back to Sans and held the pup up to him. He glared at them. Then at the pup. He growled and presented his other hand. Rox sat in his palm, shivering, quietly whimpering.  
Casey had almost forgot the macabre settling of the first floor. They were gaping at Sans, and snorted. He turn to them stiffly.  
« wha's so funny.  
\- You are adorable.  
\- fuck ya.  
\- Maybe later. After a nap. »  
Sans relaxed a bit as his smile widened softly. He didn't move too much though, preoccupied that the tiny pets would fall.  
« if they shit on my hands, i drop'm an' kick their little asses so hard they won't shit fer a week. »  
Casey turned to the box of pet's stuff and took it. It was rather heavy, and cumbersome.  
« Hey Sans, could you carry this instead ? It's heavy.  
\- nope. got my hands full.  
\- I can hold Rox. Or better, he can walk.  
\- nope. yer responsibility. yer burden.  
\- Well, my responsibility is the pets, so I should be holding the pets-  
\- nope. »  
Sans started walking down the stairs, leaving Casey to carry the heavy box.  
« That fucker...  
\- I will help you. »  
Casey smiled at their host-age as they held the other side of the box. Then winced when they saw what they were holding by the very tip of their fingers.  
« Is it... the pillow Ranx was...  
\- Yes. It is his favorite toy. »  
As to approve of that, Ranx was now shaking his butt, standing under the gross thing, looking up at it with loving eyes.  
« Ah... Is is necessary to have that.. ?  
\- Absolutely. Ranx cannot do without. If he were to loose it, he would most certainly be all cranky and eventually go looking for an other pillow to play with.  
\- Oh. Well, we better not have our bed pillows raped.  
\- No, you better not... Well. Having his toy isn't a guarantee he won't try to use other pillows as well, but a firm reprimand would put him back on tracks. … not a too firm reprimand. Also you should wash it once a week. »  
All the while they had started walking carefully down the stairs, Ranx following. Abaddon surely was somewhere behind. Sans was waiting at the bottom, checking on them even if he said he would be waiting at the car. He probably was concerned Casey might fall off the dangerous stairs with their charge.  
« We're gonna have to think of closing our bedroom door, Sans ! » Casey told him.  
« Mh, I am afraid it wouldn't stop Ranx and Abaddon... » their host-age clarified.  
« What ?  
\- They know how to open doors.  
\- Seriously ? »  
They nodded. Casey took a second to wonder how the pets could have learn to open doors when their homeplace had no doors.  
« They can't pick locks though. So locking your bedroom door should do. »

They soon had stacked the box and the gross pillow at the back of the car. The rats had been put in their cage set on the left backseat for more practicality, while the two dogs shared the right back seat. Then everyone was back in the car and buckled. When Sans was about to start the machine, the hairy, meowling cat suddenly jumped through his opened window and on his arm. He just had the time to swear, startled, before she jumped on Casey's shoulder on the passenger seat, and then jumped on the middle back seat, right on her blinded master's lap.  
« fuck i hate that cat. »  
Sans started the engine and left the place.

***

Something felt odd with all of this. It wasn't just the annoyance of seeing six fucking weird pets invading his home, no. It was the witch.  
Oh sure they could emote. Sometimes. He supposed only when they were under extreme pressure. But then they would just come back to their creepy poker face as if nothing happened. Like what they just experienced : two strangers walk in your home to take your family away and burst into your cave of nightmarish memories. Who would just be all chill and relaxed, talking about how to feed pets, how to use the brush on their fur, how to hold rats on your palm right after that ? Well. That freaking witch did.  
And what was that. Their home. Above a pauper's grave. Who would stay there after witnessing all their friends die ? That witch. And he stilll had no idea who they were.  
Although, they did not call them their ''friends''. They called them ''room mates''. Sans had gathered they were attached to wording things precisely. So this distinction surely was important to get what possibly got through their mind-  
Oh why was he even trying. They were fucked up, that's all. Why did Papyrus and Casey want to keep them was beyond him. They were really too much trouble. 

He heard Casey turn to watch them and ask additional questions. Welp. When Casey had a job to do, they did it, and put efforts into it. They were determined to ensure they had no suspicious contacts.  
They asked them about their landlord. Who he was. Where he lived. If he had any family. What other places he owned. What errands he send them on exactly. If he was involved with what happened to heir room mates. How long ago it happened.  
They answered everything, with short and precise responses. The kind of responses he would always want when he was questioning people. But people always managed to add useless words, put too much emotions, and it took some additional efforts to make them be that efficient. At least, the witch was a good prisoner.  
Or not. Useless words, emotions, the way they reacted to pressure told a lot about people. The witch remained unreadable, despite their few moments of vulnerability. Sure they were obedient. Compliant. Easy to handle. 

But they were freaking unnerving and unsettling.

He thought this little trip to their home would at least tell him enough about them to fill in some blanks and make them less of a mystery. He thought discovering all their skeletons in their closet would make them more... human.  
Well now he had litterally discovered skeletons and was now left with even more troubling questions. Sure he had learnt a thing or too. But he felt like he knew nothing. Spy or not, something was truely suspicious about them. After all, they might as well be lying about everything. He couldn't read them, how could he be sure they didn't kill those people themself ? Or that no one would never go looking for them ?  
Oh well why bother learning anything about them. They'd eventually betray themself and show they're a spy, and he would kill them. Although he didn't really think they were a spy. They were really too... Well. He couldn't explain it but he was almost sure they weren't a spy. So they would probably just become part of the decor, washing dishes, sweeping floors, sucking brutes' cocks in the backyard and that's all they would be. A nothing.  
…  
An annoyingly unnerving nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love stew.


	5. The witch's Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Squeaky is revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the tags. Sorry for that, guess I should've waited to know where all of this was going before tagging with anything.  
Welp this took a hell of a long time (between Halloween last week and a school trip next week, coudln't write a lot). I am not really satisfied with this chapter to be honest, but I don't see how to improve it yet. It's a bit longer than the others, too, and I introduce an OC of mine. Hope you don't like him. I don't want him to be really likable.

In all, this had been an interesting day. An exhausting, interesting day.  
You had faced death.  
You had shed a tear.  
And then, you had opened your door to strangers. You had fed them with your stew. And they had gone down to the cave, deep in your past and you had no idea what impression they had of it.  
That had been quite a crucible to say the least. Not in a long time had you felt so close to snap, let alone twice in a same day.  
And now your were at their house, a big, yet not tremendously big house. Actually it was far more humble than you thought it would be. It was even slightly smaller than your own home, and compartimented with far many more walls and doors.  
You had no idea where you were, for you had gone through the trip blinded, but you appreciated the place. It was welcoming, compfortable, no doubt your pets would like it here. It was unexpectingly cosy, yet classy, and you couldn't really imagine the big gruff Sans living here, relaxing in the big sofa, arpenting the place in a compfortable pajama. … Actually, you gave it a bit of imagination and you could totally see him sprawled on that sofa wearing a pajama and worn slippers.  
Sans grunted, as he caught you staring at him a bit too long than politeness permitted. You lowered your gaze to your pets : Rox was trembling like a leaf and was proceeding into shily discovering the living room, while Ranx was staring at the sofa's pillows, waggling his butt. Abaddon was conquering the area by putting her marks everywhere and glaring down at things, like the queen she is. The three rats were put on a table, disoriented, slightly anxious that they were kept locked in the cage. You felt a pinch at your heart at the sight. There was no chance Sans would allow them to run free in his house.

You had just finished putting the pet's stuff down with mux Dunn when you heard activity towards what might be the kitchen. Immediatly, a young man entered the living room, and his likings to Casey Dunn was obvious, though you had no idea who he was and did not expect to see someone else. He was about to greet when he stopped, staring at the pets.

« Braxton ! You er- you are home early.  
\- Who. Is. This. Adorable pup ??!? »  
He approached Rox, who cast him a seemingly frightened look. The young man gave him his hand to sniff, and as soon as the pup licked it he held him up to his face, a large smile of pure happiness brightening his traits. You relaxed, seeing how happy he was to see your pet, he most likely wouldn't let them get hurt if he could do something about it.  
« You are adopting dogs ? You guys know this is the first step to the baby, right ? »  
You heard Sans emitting a noise you couldn't decide whether it was smothering with embarrassement or just a snort. But the red on his face was sort of self-explanatory, as well as making you enjoy the forbidden knowledge that skeletons could blush. Mux Dunn on their side gave this a nervous chuckle and started to explain, when Braxton lend eyes on you and gave you a smile.  
« Oh, hello ! »  
You froze. That was something rather uncommon, somebody noticing you without anybody introducing you, or you having to willingly bring attention to you. He walked up to you, bringing Rox under his arm to free his right hand he then gave you. You noticed he immediately had the proper hold onto your pet. This was reassuring and you felt some warmth in your chest.  
« I am Braxton, nice to meet you ! »  
You hesitated a second, before taking his soft hand. All of this was very unusual. Not unpleasant, but unusual. You blinked a few times before realising you had to give this a proper answer.  
« … Greetings. »  
Is all you could say. A sole word that sounded awfully cold, and you had no idea if he even heard it since your tone was even quieter than usual. Shy, you realised. This was a shy word.  
This was definitely not what one should answer to such a polite, happy, nice and warm young man like Braxton. His almond brown eyes were fixed on you and you saw he was looking at you. Not just lending eyes on you by mistake, but truely, intently looking. You felt... considered. You couldn't muster your words before mux Dunn put a hand on his shoulder and said :  
« This is... a collegue. We are keeping his pets for a while, after then they will get them back.  
\- Oh, I see. »  
He let your hand go, but his warmth lingered in your palm, and you looked at it, dumbfounded.  
« What are their name ? »  
Only when you noticed the silence around did you realised he was speaking to you. Again.  
You stared at his gentle face, smiling, patiently waiting for you to answer.  
You swallowed and remembered to breathe, quieting your heart that had started to pump more rapidly for some strange reason.  
With a calm and paced demeanor, more like yourself, you started :

« You are holding Rox. He is very shy, but way braver than he seems. »  
You showed your bulldog chewing his pillow that he just had extirped from the box.  
« This is Ranx. He is very huggable and slightly too affectionate. On the table are Straw, Wood and Bricks. They don't bite, you can hold them in your hands. And... »  
A thud brought attention to the shelf, from which a book had just fallen on the carpet. Abaddon was lying up there and had judged this book unworthy of standing on this promontory much dedicated to her glory, thus pushing it with a swift move of her paw.  
« … This is Abaddon. She is tough to deal with at first, but once you earned her trust, she becomes a real friend. And you don't want to be on her bad side. »  
Braxton giggled.  
« Sweet. I like them already. What's yours ? »  
You stared at him, perplexed. What was he asking for exactly ?  
« Pardon me ?  
\- What's your name. »  
You couldn't muster the words. You were very calm, that did not come from stress or anxiety. You just. Didn't imagine that somebody would ask you for your name. Usually people didn't even bother asking and gave you names, nicknames, anything that could help people understand who they were talking about when they had to talk about you, which didn't occur very often. Let alone talking to you directly for something so mundain as asking your name.  
As you kept silent for a while, Sans interrupted :  
« welp, we gotta go. we're kinda in a hurry.  
\- Oh, uh, sure. I started cooking, since afternoon classes were cancelled I thought I might as well make lunch. I'll leave you leftovers in the fridge for whenever you'll be back.  
\- Oh, thank you Brax. That's very sweet of you...  
\- Good luck with whatever you have to do. Don't overwork yourselves, though. You both look like wrecks, you should sleep. »  
Casey Dunn laughed and hugged their brother. Sans tousled his hair affectionately and he responded with a weak punch on his arm. Their shenanigans were... so normal. Casual, brotherly interaction. You couldn't even start to wonder about what Braxton knew, how deeply he was involved himself in the chapter, since he looked so... well. Innocent. Although at that moment, all three looked pretty innocent. Even Sans managed to look soft, which gave you hope for your pets. Now you could finally let them behind with almost no worry.

You were back in the car not long after, a blind on your eyes. You heard Ranx bark as the car started for the road, but you had no doubt that the nice Braxton was there to pet them and reassure them as you were taken away from your family. You felt your heart ache a bit, but breethed the feeling away, as soft vibrations started in your front pocket. Squeeky was still here, feeling your tensed worry, though growing thinner and thinner. You didn't find an opportunity to let it go, and you winced as you realised it didn't eat since yesterday. Still, you were glad it was here with you, and you fought the temptation to slide your hand into your pocket to pet it.

***

Papyrus glared the annoying silent human down. He had better to do than taking care of his brother's shit. Or Casey's, in that case, although Casey's shit were rarely not Sans's too. He glared these two and quirked a browbone. They looked... exhausted. Wrecked, even. On comparison, the annoying human looked pretty fine and that was even more annoying. They were taking the whole situation all too well not to be suspicious, though it was admittedly admirable.

« I WOULD WELCOME YOU IN THE SCINTILLATING SKELETON SYNDICATE, BUT YOU ARE YET TO PROVE YOUR WORTH BEFORE YOU ARE CONSIDERED PART OF OUR CHAPTER. »  
They nodded silently. Well at least they weren't being difficult. If ''taking care of pets for an uncertain amount of time'' may be considered ''not difficult''.  
« CASEY, YOU WILL MAKE THEM HAVE A TOUR OF THE PLACE AND MAKE SURE THEY HAVE ALL THEY NEED IN ORDER TO DO... WHAT THEY DO.  
\- Okay. »  
Casey pat the human's shoulder and both of them walked to the door. Only then did Papyrus remember something important.  
« WAIT. »  
They stopped and turned to him. He was struck, realising he almost forgot something as essential as that.  
« GIVE ME YOUR NAME SO I KNOW WHO TO CALL WHEN I FIND UNDESIRED FILTH TO WIPE OFF MY WAY. »  
The annoying human turned to face him and replied :  
« You. »  
Papyrus gasped. Were they serious ?  
« YOU KNOW VERY WELL WHO I AM. ALTHOUGH I MAY NOT HAVE PROPERLY INTRODUCED MYSELF, I DON'T THINK I OWE YOU ANY PROPER INTRODUCTION FOR YOU ARE IN NO PLACE TO DEMAND SUCH A THING FROM ME.  
\- No, that is my name. You. You is my name.  
\- YOU CAN'T BE NAMED AFTER ME, SCUM. THERE IS ONLY ONE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, AND YOU ARE NOT WORTHY OF SUCH A GLORIOUS NAME. »  
This human was being dangerously disrespectful. If this name thing wasn't confusing him terribly, he would probably be breaking their legs right now. Casey tried to cast some light on all of this :  
« Boss, I think they mean that their name is Yu, Y-U. This is a rather common chinese name. I think it means ''shining brightly'' or something around those lines.  
\- Actually... »  
The -how did Sans call it ? ''Handymaid''?- was now sighing, as if bracing themself for the upcoming bother of explaining their origins, that were kept a mystery since their face was so bland there was no way to identify any ethnical traits. They might as well have chinese ancestors even if they didn't seem like it.  
« Actually, I have no specific origins that I know of. My name isn't the chinese ''Yu''. My name is spelled ''Y-O-U'', like ''you'', the pronoun. »

There was a silence after that. Finally, Sans loudly snorted. Then he broke in laughter.  
« you... you... ya serious... ? fuck ! »  
Casey tried to hold themself from laughing too. They failed and snickered, casting a sorry glance at their hostage, bringing their hand to their mouth in a vain attempt to stop their rising hilarity. Sans was now holding his knees, openly crying in laughter. Had he even tried to keep himself together, exhaustion would have made him fail anyway.  
« shit shit shit- ya can't be serious shit- that too fuckin' funny shit- »  
He wiped a tear off his eyesocket.  
« holy shit yer parents must've hated ya so much. you. you.- shit- »  
Papyrus was shivering. To keep a hold on himself, he sat on his Boss Special Spinny Chair and cleared his throat. 

« YOU ARE SHITTING ME AREN'T YOU ? »  
To that, Sans laughed even harder.  
« h-hey, ''you''. com'er, ''you''. ''you'', clean da dishes. fuck off, ''you''-  
\- STOP THAT SANS. THIS ISN'T FUNNY. OBVIOUSLY THEY ARE SHITTING WITH US.  
\- ya mean, ''you'' is shitting with us.  
\- SANS !  
\- I swear, I am not. You really is my name. Though you may call me whatever you want to avoid any confusion.  
\- ya mean ya call yerself whataver ya want, then.  
\- No, I mean... you call me whatever you want.  
\- dat's what i say ya call yerself whatever ya want. »  
Papyrus slammed his desk. Casey was now hiding their face, their shoulder shaking, obviously lost in laughter, though trying to hold back. Sans however couldn't help himself. At least the culprit was calm and serious, holding their hands low in front of them in a peaceful, harmless demeanor.  
« THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE. YOU WILL PROVIDE A PROPER NAME !  
\- I told you my real name. I can't make up another one, then I suppose I will go with whatever you choose for me.  
\- h- h- h- hey- d- dun' tell me- dun' tell me yer last name is ''me'', ''i'', ''we'' er sum shit like that, eh ?  
\- …  
\- GO ON, HUMAN. TELL US YOUR FULL NAME. »  
They were casting Sans a blank stare, but broke it to bring it back to Papyrus.  
« Erader. You Erader. »  
Well that was quite a weird name. It sounded like ''eraser'' but not quite, the strong consonance in the middle made the word stumble in one's ear. Not that Papyrus had any to bug him with, so he didn't mind. Once the weirdness had passed, he accepted that name. At east it was too weird to be a joke, right ? Right ? No one in their right mind would be shitting with him for so long on a joke that wasn't worth the effort. Or maybe they were that stupid. Since he wasn't so sure, he said nonetheless :  
« YOU WOULDN'T BE STUPID ENOUGH TO BE SHITTING WITH ME, RIGHT ? THIS IS YOUR REAL NAME ?  
\- I didn't choose my name. Those who named me obviously had poor taste, unlike you, Papyrus, head of the Scintillating Skeletal Syndicate. »  
Sans's hilarity dropped all of a sudden and he looked at them with bewilderment. Had they really just criticized the boss's name ? Now, he could understand that people disliked the chapter's name, but no one ever criticized it in front of him, let alone bring his very own name up.  
As for Papyrus, his jaw dropped a second, then he loudly snapped it shut. He felt conflicted wether to take this flattery as a cover hiding filthy foolish criticism or as genuine. He chose the latter.  
« OBVIOUSLY, YOU WERE BORN UNLUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE A LAME NAME. WELL THAT IS A SHAME FOR YOU. WE WILL LIKELY REFER TO YOU BY A NICKNAME THAT FITS YOUR TRAITS AND- HEM, PERSONALITY. »  
Sans wasn't laughing anymore, instead glaring them down with a rising growl.  
« sure pal. yer really unlucky yer parents hated ya as much to provide ya with a suckin' name an' a crap attitude.  
\- That I cannot tell. I never knew my parents. Who knows what they felt for their newborn when they left them on the trash. »  
Sans's sockets widened and he snorted again. Well that was quite the revelation, it almost covered the fact that they didn't argue over the ''crap attitude'' remark. Casey however had long managed to calm down their hilarity and cast them a bewildered look.  
« You... you are serious ? You've been found on the trash ?  
\- That is what I have been told. I don't know the truth, and sincerely, I don't really care. So do you, I suppose, so I would rather stop elaborating on my origins. »  
Sans snorted again. That was just too funny, yet admittably sad... Still, he couldn't help it. That would have been pathetic if they hadn't such a shitty behavior. Crap, they even managed to get away with almost insulting Papyrus to his face. He shook his head, laughter resumed shaking his shoulders while he was trying to calm down, failing miserably. Papyrus cleared his none-existent throat once again.  
« ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE. NO RESPONSIBLE PARENT WOULD CALL THEIR BABY SUCH A LAME NAME, NOR WOULD THEY LEAVE THEM ON THE TRASH. THOUGH IF A PARENT WAS IRRESPONSIBLE ENOUGH TO LEAVE A BABY ON THE TRASH THEY WOULD LIKELY BE ABLE TO CALL THEM NAMES, SPECIFICALLY LAME ONES. THOUGH IF THEY DO ABANDON THEIR BABY I DON'T SEE WHY THEY WOULD EVEN BOTHER NAMING THEM. OR MAKE A BABY IN THE FIRST PLACE. MAYBE YOUR PARENTS TRUELY HATED YOU BUT I CAN'T FIGURE WHY FOR YOU ARE A VERY AVERAGE HUMAN ON EVERY ASPECTS. EXCEPT THAT YOU ARE INCREDIBLY ANNOYING. »  
He shook his head.  
« VERY WELL. I DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR NAME IS EITHER WAY. CASEY, SHOW THEM AROUND. SANS, STAY HERE, CALM DOWN AND REPORT. »  
The two humans reached the door while Sans was still busy extinguishing his laughter.  
« I CHANGED MY MIND, YOU ARE PISSING ME OFF, SANS. YOU WILL CALM DOWN IN YOUR OFFICE. YOU- I MEAN, THE HUMAN YOU- YOU – SHIT. SANS, YOU WILL TAKE THE HUMAN YOU -NOT YOU BUT THEM- WITH YOU TO KEEP AN EYE ON THEM. I'M TALKING ABOUT THE NOT-CASEY HUMAN OF COURSE. CASEY, STAY HERE AND REPORT WHILE YOU ARE ABLE TO SPEAK PROPERLY. »  
His demand seemed to give Sans's laughter some more fuel and he fled the place more than he left it, dragging the annoying human behind him by the collar of their work clothes. He slammed the door and soon enough, his laughter died in the distance. Papyrus sighed.  
« FINALLY ! NOW. REPORT. »  
Casey took a breath and started :  
« Well there is a lot to say, though I feel like I don't know anything. »  
Papyrus scoffed and crossed his arms. That didn't start well.

***

A moment later, Casey Dunn had left the boss's office and was taking you on a tour of the place, leaving Sans napping in his office. They had cast him such an envious glance, you thought you might as well offer them to rest as you would figure the place out by yourself. They seemed to almost consider it for a second, before reluctantly refusing, as they had to keep an eye on you. So they started walking, and you followed obediently.  
They didn't seem really at ease, as you gathered they had not worked in the hideout proper a lot, being more of an outside informant, so they didn't know the place that well. Their brows furrowed as they looked around, seeking for help, when their face lit suddenly.

« Nails ! »  
An asian women tilted her head when she heard her nickname. A smile brightened her face when she saw them and she ran towards you both.  
« El Kabong! »  
They engaged in a tight handshake.  
« Fuckin' El Kabong ! Heck that's a hell of a long time ! Still workin' for that mayor bitch ?  
\- Yeah, it's a hassle.  
\- I see that. Fuck you look wrecked.  
\- I know, I know. Had a long night.  
\- That's what happens when you sleep on a skeleton, in Sans's busted sofa !  
\- Hey, how do you know that ?  
\- What do you think ? I was here on time in the morning and saw you both cuddled an' snoring through his office window. Shit I wish I had a camera on me at all time. I'd have sooo much to blackmail you with.  
\- … I think I'd actually pay for having a picture like that. I'm pretty sure it'd find its place on the nightstand.  
\- Dealt. I'm buying a camera as soon as possible.  
\- Damn, now we have a prying Nails. The world ain't prepared for this.  
\- You brought this on yourself ! »  
They laughed and exchanged a few more casualities. Then mux Dunn turned towards you and said :

« So, this is why I'm here on my day off. Nails, this is... ehm, is ''Witch'' okay to you ? » You looked at them, holding yourself from quirking your brow. Seems like this was your official nickname now. You didn't care either way so you nodded and they resumed. « Witch it is, then. Witch, Nails. They will be brooming the place. That's... why the nickname actually. »  
Nails laughed at that.  
« Lemme guess, Sans found it. » She shook her head. « Not really inspired. Don't worry, kid. People will find you a more fitting alias real soon. So. What do you do here. »  
You gave them a neutral stare, before answering quietly :  
« I maintain the place. Which consists in sweeping, mopping, disinfecting, cleaning, occasionally checking and fixing power and plombing, dusting... »  
She gave you an odd look at that last word.  
« Eh. Better not do that too much, kid. We don't like dust a lot. »  
You blinked in confusion.  
« That is what dusting is for. Preventing dust from lingering. »  
She shook her head.  
« Monster dark humor. You'll get it eventually, lotsa peeps are into it here. » She clapped her hand. « So what do you do. Aside of that.  
\- … Not much. »  
She waited for an elaboration that didn't come. Then she furrowed her brows.  
« The boss hired a simple janitor ? Just a maid ? That's seriously why you've been up all fuckin' night, Cas' ?  
\- Well. We had to find a use of them.  
\- You ''had to'' ? »  
She considered Dunn for a second, before pieces clicked together.  
« Aaaah I see ! They're a witness, and you didn't want to clean your shit.  
\- I- wouldn't word it like that but- yes. Yes, that's it.  
\- They're like you ! He he he, you an' Sans adopted a mutt !  
\- Actually, we do have doggies at home now. As for them, they aren't... a mutt. They're... a ''handymaid'', as Sans put it.  
\- What ? Dogs ? At your place ? With a skeleton ? That means trouble. »  
She laughed again. Then she waved Dunn off saying :  
« Welp, have fun. I have work to do.  
\- Wait ! Nails, I don't know the place and they need to put their marks around here. Would you mind doing this for me ?  
\- What ? No way, I'm busy. I think Louis is on chore today, so he must be moppin' around.  
\- … Louis... ? Who's that ?  
\- Ah, yeah I forget you're not really a team partner. Funny how you seem like part of the decor while you're actually not here often. You're just like family, it feels like we haven't seen you in decades, and that we just parted ways yesterday at the same time. »  
She slapped their shoulder loudly. Dunn didn't flinch, though the slap was sudden and probably stinging.  
« Louis is a big dude slime monster, a fuckin' exhibit who never wears a shirt. Follow the whistles. He's into rock'n roll, easy to track. He prolly be around over there or somewhere. »  
She gave a vague directional indication and mux Dunn thanked her. But instead of going her way, she stood in front of you and planted a finger in your chest.  
You froze at the sudden, unexpected move, and at the thought of Squeaky still hiding in your front pocket. You distinctly heard it squeal. Hopefully, no one noticed.  
Nails stabbed a cold gaze straight into your eyes and said :  
« Listen you. That's very fuckin' important. You may broom everywhere, but see that door over there ? See ? It's the weaponry. My territory. Don't you. Ever. Go there. Without me. »  
She stressed those three last statements each with a poke of her finger into your chest, each granted with a pained squeal. You probably paled, because she smirked at your face. She still didn't hear the poor mistreated spider.  
« The weapons room is my place. I'm the boss regarding guns'n all the funky stuff used to harm and kill. Don't you ever disturb anything there. No brooming without consulting me. No mopping anything if I didn't call you for that. And absolutely no. Fuckin'. Dusting anything. Got it ? »  
You had slowly brought a hand up to your chest, trying to indicate her to stop stabbing her finger there. She didn't get the hint, or she didn't care. Either way, the poor spider kept squealing miserably at each fierce poke.  
She finally noticed something sounded odd, because she lowered her gaze to your chest.  
She silently retreated her finger, then stabbed it again. Squeal.  
She furrowed her brows and reiterated. Squeal.  
You flinched and stepped back.  
« Would you please stop it, miss Nails ? »  
She snorted.  
« The hell ? Your chest squeaks. 's fucking funny ! »  
She stepped further and poked again. Squeal. She snorted.  
You brought your hand to your front pocket protectively and cast a glance at mux Dunn. Their gaze spoke volume.  
Not only did they hear the squeaks, but they had plenty of time to piece things together and figure what was going on, exhaustion apparently failing to put their brains out of order. They were looking at you with a cold gaze, a warning.  
Nails, on her side, laughed it off, shaking her head.  
« Okay, fun time's over. I really must get back to work now. And remember : no snoopin' around the weapons.  
\- Yeah, good luck, Nails. We're gonna head our way. »  
She waved goodbye, walking away. They grabbed your sore shoulder, making you wince a bit and dragged you in a corner. They scolded you with a hushed tone :

« The hell, Witch ? Is that your spider pet in here ?  
\- Yes, I really am sorry I didn't bring it up sooner. »  
No point in denying it now. The sooner the better, you guessed. So you simply told truth and stayed calm, sliding your hand in your frontpocket to check on the pained spider. It nibbled the tip of your finger, seeking for comfort. You couldn't just take them out and pet them, though you really wanted to, to make sure they weren't hurt too badly.  
« It's supposed to be at home with the others !  
\- Actually, no, since they never met before, I wouldn't risk leaving them behind together without ensuring Abaddon adopts Squeaky beforehand.  
\- So what was the plan ? Hiding it from us ? Shit, you're already walking on thin ice, why would you do shit like this ? You bring distrust on yourself, you bring trouble to yourself !  
\- The plan was to free it at some point, I just never had the opportunity. It is not exactly a tamed creature, although it really behaves itself. As for trust, I couldn't trust you or Sans to not harm it if you found it on me, and then everything else came up and, well. I didn't find a way to bring it up or release it discretly.  
\- And at my place ? Hu ? That wasn't a good opportunity to take it out saying ''hey by the way there is Squeaky too, be nice to them'' maybe ? I'm sure Braxton would've jumped to hug it before Sans could've stomped it. »  
They were right... still, even if you had had the idea, you couldn't be sure it would have been spared. You shrugged.  
« I didn't think about it. I was... distracted.  
\- Fuck, why even bringing it in the first place ?  
\- It decided on its own. I found it in my front pocket when I was waiting for you in the car yesterday, it was already too late to put it away. »  
Mux Dunn sighed. At least they didn't seem really pissed, even if they pretended so. Understandable. They had backed you up this whole time, showed nothing but concern and kindness, despite that you already were that much of a bother. And now they discovered you had hidden something from them. Maybe they even figured out you had faked pain to avoid thorough inspection in your cell the night prior, which was plain betrayal : you simply had used their empathy for your lie. So it would be understandable that they would be pissed at you, however they weren't. They were only merely annoyed. They rubbed their head, visibly thinking this through.

« Okay, well. Nobody knows you yet but the bosses and me. And no one heard of Squeaky except me, I didn't talk about it, I thought it was irrelevant. So just, take it out, let it perch on your shoulder or something, and just act natural. With little luck, people won't bug over it too much and will accept it. If it's brought to Pap's acoustic meati, you'll just pretend you found it around here and adopted it. It's already stated you like to take care of stray animals, it won't seem that surprising. And heck, your family is away, it'd make sens you're looking for some compfort.  
\- You would lie for me. »  
That statement was a sort of question, for you were quite surprised.  
« No. I mean, I won't have to. Why would they ask me 'bout a pet that appeared after I brought you here ?... Actually, hide it a little longer. Let it out tomorrow, or the day after to be sure. So I won't be related to it.  
\- Thank you. That is actually a really good idea, I won't even have to abandon it. »  
You were genuinely thankful. You had grown attached to the little odd thing, not so little technically, and now that you were taken away from your pets this was a true relief to know you would be able to keep Squeaky.  
« Yeah. Well. Wait to see people's reaction before thanking me. They might just stomp it dead. Spiders are quite disliked, even by monsters oddly.  
\- Who would dislike such a precious thing ? »  
The secretary seemed to actually consider it, and looked around to make sure nobody was looking this way. Then they approached and took a secretive tone :  
« May I see it ? »  
You smiled fondly, taking it out with precaution, happy to be able to check properly on it.  
Their eyes widened with a conflicted mix of fondness and horror.  
« Shit it's huge. Fuck is that even a real spider ? »  
Squeaky moved on your hands. You had to hold it with both of them to make up for the length of its legs.  
Casey Dunn's first reaction to seeing it actually being alive was to flinch, but they held themself in order to not give it away, taking instead a closer look.  
« Shit. For sure that's a big... beautiful thing. I guess. »  
They inspected it closely, yet not too closely. If the sweat on their fronthead was any indication, they must be quite anxious looking at it. Like they would rather shove it off or flee, but couldn't help but observe with morbid fascination. Squeaky squealed in aknowledgment. Mux Dunn looked at you with bewildered eyes.  
« Shit it really squeaks. I don't think this is an actual spider, but... » They looked back at it. « ...It seems way too animalistic to be a monster... » Their brows furrowed. « It's just... so fuckin' weird. Cute. Maybe. Probably. But weird.  
\- Unique. » You stated fondly. They looked back at you, unconvinced, but nodded nonetheless.  
« Okay, now take that back inside. I can't guarantee people won't freak out seeing it though. I barely could look at it myself. »  
You obliged, compforted that Squeaky was fine. From what you could see, it was tough, and their back may be a little sore, but they weren't harmed. They would recover. A meal would help in that matter, you'd only have to manage to slip some food into your front pocket without bringing suspicion.  
Once the little treasure was hidden, mux Dunn resumed leading you through the hideout, seeking for that Louis guy who supposedly was on cleaning chore. Soon enough, you both heard whistles of some rock'n roll melody, probably a popular song as the tune seemed familiar to you.

***

Casey lead the annoying witch through the hideout, guided by the sound af a rock'n roll tune whistled in the distance, and any indication monster mobs or humans gave them. Yes, Witch was starting to be annoying. Of course they had to keep that spider hidden. Of course they nearly gave it away by letting Nails stabbing it repetetively. Now Casey wasn't an absolute expert about monsterkind, but the concept of spider monster wasn't unfamiliar to them. That spider hidden in the frontpocket was definitely not a normal spider, that's for sure, but they hadn't heard about monster that small and animalistic. Maybe a subrace ? Or a normal spider that mutated after eating some monster magic or something ? Hell if they knew. They were too tired to think this through, though, they would likely make a bit of research on their own later.

What were they thinking. Of course they wouldn't make research on that subject. If this spider were to be identified as a mole or something, they didn't want to be... related... to it. What. No, of course if there was any risk that the spider was a mole, they would preferrably warn the boss before shit happens. Ah ! Shit, they were definitiely too tired to think things straight.

They would notify Sans on it. Or maybe not Sans but Papyrus first. Sans obviously didn't like the maintainer a lot, for some strange reason, so he would probably jump on any opportunity to frame them for prying or something. Talking to Papyrus about it should do. He didn't seem to outright suspect them yet, and he may know about spider monsters. 

Then why did they bother giving Witch advice on how to pass it for an unsuspicious pet ? Something about the way their face shifted from poker face to genuine fondness maybe. They had this eeriness to them, in the way they barely emoted most of the time, then suddenly cracked a tender smile out of nowhere. Something into them that was immensely gentle despite all their oddness. The fact that Casey knew they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time anyway, that it was just bad luck they found themself here. Casey couldn't explain this, but they were sure Witch had no ill intention. But they may be innocent, the spider was still suspicious in itself. If it was a kind of monster with relative intelligence, it might as well be using them for prying on the chapter- oh hell why would it do that. Who would ever manipulate the witch into staying late at work and conviniently hear the wrong phonecall. Who would be twisted enough to plan that, gather the odds and all. It all seemed way too absurd, yet so conviniently ordered. But... well. Casey was an adept of intricated complex plans themself. They had spent long nights learning from Papyrus, and that's how they got to become the mayor's secretary and most favored mole of the chapter. Still, they wouldn't rely on someone like Witch. Hell, they woudln't even have noticed them in the first place, let alone implicate them in any random super schemes.

Yeah, they probably were thinking too hard about all of this. But maybe that was the effect aimed for.  
They shook that idea off. They were way too exhausted to think this through. They had no proper evidence to work on, no factual knowledge to think with. All of this was just speculation. And they were already almost convinced that Witch had nothing to do with mafia or police or anything in the first place.

They just needed to sleep.

Finally, after a turn in a corridor, they found a tall shirtless guy mopping the floor, whistling a rock'n roll tune, wearing only really short jean shorts, which was rather uncommon, even slightly embarrassing. Didn't Papyrus highly value his guy's looks or something ? Not that he imposed a special suit or anything, but he wanted his guys to look at least clean and overall correct. Maybe slimes had a special treatment on that regard, maybe wearing clothes was complicated with a sluggish, slippery body matter.  
The guy was indeed made of some sort of greenish translucent gelley that somewhat called for a sort of sculpted fluid, though his body shape was anything but gelley-like, or fluid. Actually it looked rather fit and well build, humanoïd if not for the face that lacked a nose and ears, but was agremented with two dark green balls standing for eyes, that were partly covered with his face matter just like human eyeballs were protected by eyelids and brows. Those eyeballs were actually the only opaque things they could see, as the rest of his body was more or less translucent, with various shifts of matter density that subtly constructed his physical consistency. It was strange to see his mouth curved to pruduce whistles, as he supposedly lacked everything required to do such a thing. Yet again, monsters were unusual creatures by definition and Casey should be used to the ''magic explains everything'' logic, as they were living with a litteral talking skeleton, and had even sex with him on a regular basis without much more trouble than they'd have with a human (but a human wouldn't be nearly as good than Sans with his magic abilities). All considered, this Louis was a rather average guy, in this world full of surprises.

They called him, and he removed his attention from his task to look at the both of them.  
« Hey, Louis, is that right ? This is the one responsible of chores from now on. They're... on test currently, so if you'd keep a constant eye on them today and report to me, it'd be great.  
\- Yo, ya ain't no boss of me. »  
This retort wasn't said with as much bite as it could. Actually, the guy had quite a soft, pleasantly low voice, yet not as deep as Sans's and held no gruff either. Surprisingly enough, his words were more like a caress than anything, despite the obvious reproach -or was he really reproaching anything ? Casey didn't know and chose to ignore it.-  
« … Sure, I know that. But the actual boss wants this person to do all the chores, and be supervised all the while. Also they need to know the place. I believe you have nothing better to do, you're scheduled to be on chore today anyway. »  
Louis didn't answer, seemingly annoyed (Casey had grown accustomed to reading facial expression on various monsters that were, for most of them, hardly readable for laymans. They found out that once you caught the hint on a skeleton's and a fire elemental's expressivity, other monsters seemed rather natural to read as long as they didn't put any significant effort into hiding their emotions or bluffing). Yet, he shrugged and answered with this same oddly caressing tone.  
« Yeah I s'ppose yer right. So who's da lucky one if I may ask.  
\- Louis, this is Witch. Witch, this is Louis. So now that it is settled, Louis, take care that they don't do anything stupid. As for you... Well. Don't act suspiciously. » They turned back to speak to the both of them. « Well, I will be at Sans's office, if you need me. » The tone they used clearly meant ''I hope you don't because I have hours of sleep to catch up.'' « I will probably check up on you tonight before I leave... to make sure you... well. Got your marks and all. So... »  
Casey noticed Louis was staring straight at Witch, with an intensity that was almost unsettling, his dark green eyes growing slowly a lighter, brighter green on the spots where you would expect to see pupils. They had no idea if he was even listening to them, which was a problem, considering it was very important that the hostage remained supervised the whole day long. But on the other hand, Casey was certain that Witch had listened and understood and they felt they could trust them to behave. Their reason kept repeating they had no reason to trust them, but their heart kept saying they could. And as Casey was more and more tired as the promise of a nap came closer by, they tended to rely on their instinct rather than their exhausted, irrational paranoid reason that could do no better than speculate on a weird spider pet. Ultimately, this drove them to give up on treating with Louis, who seemed to be too absorbed into glaring Witch down, than keep up with this absurd security measure. So they lamely concluded :  
« … Okay. Bye. »  
They left with a final wave of the hand. You were now alone with the slime monster, looking straight at you like you were some sort of mystery box ready to be unwrapped.

***

What a curious stare. On that matter, he didn't quite top the skeleton brothers, that were definitely the most intimidating with their void, pitch black eyesockets pierced with red glowing eyelights, but he did have something rather unsettling into those two shapes of dark green with small pinpoints of bright green light. But what made it so particular was the way his fluid body matter shifted strangely around those opaque eyeballs like human eyelids and brows, while failing to hide them considering its translucent property. Which made his blinking quite a strange sight. Although his eyelights did shut off when he closed his eyes, which was a fast and subtle thing, barely noticable. You wondered if he could keep these eyelights lit while keeping his eyes closed and see through his eyelids. If he could he might see the world with a green layout.

You kept staring back at Louis for a short while, wondering what was so fascinating on your face for him to keep still like this, before you eventually cleared your throat in a quiet demeanor. This proved to be enough for tearing him out of his contemplative trance and earn a soft smile from him. What a curious smile either. Hardly visible on his translucent face, yet clearly distinct thanks to your sense of volumes and the subtle shift of light reflection on his surface.  
He silently handed you the mop handle, and you carefully took it. His hand suddenly slid down the handle and grabbed your wrist, startling you, but you didn't do much as blink in surprise. His gooey hand was curious to the touch, not entirely unpleasant, but not truely enjoyable either. It wasn't cold as you would have expected it, on the contrary, it was warm. It lingered a moment on your wrist, moving ever so slightly, as if seeking for your pulse. One of his fingers slid slowly on your forearm. His hold wasn't really strong, but you could feel some pressure nonetheless.  
You breathed a slight uneasiness away and was about to politely ask him to let you go, when your words were cut in your throat as you noticed a slight shift in his coloration : eery arabesques started to roam fluidly his inside, surfacing sometimes in moving stains of bright diverse colors before diving again. That was quite fascinating to watch, and you couldn't bring your gaze away from his body.  
You heard him chuckle softly.  
« Ya like what ya see ? »  
You didn't catch his teasing tone as you pondered your thoughts and considered it seriously, before simply answering after a few more seconds of gazing :  
« Yes. It is very pretty. »  
Simple truth. It was indeed pretty to watch, despite the strangeness of it. Your statement seemed to spark some shades of pink, that climbed from the depht his chest up to his face. His hold on your arm loosened and you managed to release it. You held on the mop and tore your eyes away from him to focus on your task at hand. Where to start, where to start.  
He cleared his throat and said :  
« Hem, well. If- if ya ever want to see more of it, just ask, 'n I'm all yours. »  
Something must have unsettled him, because he didn't sound as confident as he tried to seem. You didn't know what to answer to that, so you chose to remain polite :  
« Well, thank you.  
\- Y- yeah, just ask, yo. Ask anythin'. 'm here fer ya.  
\- Thank you again. This will prove really helpful. »  
It was, indeed. You had a lot to ask about the place, the people, and monsters. If he was willing to answer to anything, you wouldn't turn him down. Who knew some people in the Syndicate would be so friendly, granted a tad bit handsy. 

***

Louis didn't know what to think about you, but he knew how he felt : he really liked you.  
Not only did you save him from a really boring chore day, but you were really, really interesting as well.

He was on chore today. He had nothing better to do. So he had reluctantly started cleaning, knowing that if he slacked off, he would be severely scowled by the boss, as he highly valued hygene and hated lazyness.  
That was all the day was supposed to be : him moppin' around, and that's what he was just doing since morning. He remembered it as if it basically just happened :

He stopped when he saw greenish goop splashing on the floor. Oops. He gott carried away again. He sighed and kneeled, extending a hand to the goop, that came back to life and returned to its right place on himself. As a slime he had a tendencie to loose physical consistency when strong emotions struck him, or when he relaxed too much, but he usually managed to keep himself together. He had even worked on sculpting a rather handsome look by both human and monster standards : rather tall but not towering, muscular but slim, a cool V-shaped body that still held some sort of grace that made chicks fall for him. Ha. The times when he was mocked for his ugly disgusting looking gooey slime were over, long ago : he had learned how to use his slimy body to his advantage, by modeling it and toughing it up a bit with focus, so it wouldn't spill everywhere at any occasion.  
Remembering how handsome and attractive he was, he gathered his confidence and stood back. No, he wouldn't fall into the gag of the slime that mops the floor he's spilling himself onto over and over again. Nope. Not anymore. Not for the world. His collegues had had way too much fun with it long ago, at his debut in the chapter.  
He breathed, puffed his thick pecks and resumed mopping the floor. He even started to whistle his favorite rock'n roll tune. Nothing better than faking happiness at work to keep jerks at bay. Ha. He even started to feel actually confident and was happy with it. 

But suddenly, someone called him out. As he turned, he first saw Casey Dunn, boss Sans's chick. Or boyfriend. He didn't know for sure. Anyways, they started ordering him around, which annoyed him deeply. Casey was just a mole. Sure they lived with one of the boss, sure they were very important and probably competent in what they did, otherwise they'd be surely dead by now. But they weren't his boss. And they weren't even a real member of the chapter either, not one of his comrades anyway : they hadn't partake in a lot of missions. Rumor told they had helped defeating a powerful enemy of the Syndicate, but only an enemy that used them and their brother against the chapter, as the weakness they represented, since one of its bosses had fallen for them.  
Yeah, Louis was quite bitter. He was very handsome and attractive himself, but he wouldn't use his good looks to make his place. Although his life became way simplier once he had managed to model his body at will. Not that Casey was very good looking either. Sans sure had weird taste in chicks -or dicks or whatever. Not that Louis would ever call him out on that. He wasn't suicidal.  
He voiced his annoyance, careful not to sound too harsh in case they'd get pissed ; no doubt they could make his life a hell if they decided to destroy his hard earned reputation. It wouldn't take as much effort, since they litterally shared one of the boss's bed.  
But then they introduced him to the new recruit. Well, recruit-in-test. That meant they were supposed to be supervised at all times as they were potential trouble. Told like that, it promised to be an additional annoyance, but then he lend eyes on Witch.  
Unconspicuous human. Not too small, not too tall. Average on every aspects. Unremarkable, really. Yet there was something in their eyes, pitch black, either void or too deep to even imagine their thoughts. Impossible to read.  
He caught himself in the contemplation of this unusual face. At some point, Casey Dunn had left, but he couldn't care less.

They quietly cleared their throat and that brought him back to reality. What a cute sound. Everything about Witch seemed quiet. Not quiet to the point of being annoyingly indistinct, though, just quiet enough to not be imposing, quiet enough to make him tend to lower to them and listen. And they didn't even say a single word yet. They didn't say anything and he was already suspended to their lips. Everything in them, from their physical traits, to their soft breath, the pace they seemed animated with, all of it inspired calm. Now, that was unusual. Now that he noticed it, he couldn't help but let himself go with the rythm of their breath, his own body echoing the calm they radiated with.  
As a slime, he tended to adapt to the ambiance or aura emanating from people nearby. Usually their strong intentions would impact his physicality even without touching it, making his skin litterally crawl, melt or freeze. It could go to the point of remodeling his entire shape, which he really disliked, given how hard it had been to manage to keep it together.  
Not only other people and atmosphere would impact his looks if he let it, but also his own emotions, shifting his colors in eery arabesques throughout his slightly translucent body. Being a slime really didn't help with keeping things a secret, but he chose to bring that out by usually wandering shirtless, wearing only really short shorts to show off his good looks. Also it proved he had nothing to hide, while impressing those who knew what being a slime meant with his great self-control. At first sight, people even happened to not see that he was a slime, as they expected a slime to fall, shapeshift, wiggle or something. He didn't do that, as he grew beyond usual slimy behavior and modeled a humanoïd, handsome body that made monster girls wet.

But this human didn't impose any mind state to him. He didn't even have to fight back anything, he didn't feel unwanted influence crawling over his body to shake off his balance and physical consistency. The only thing he felt, as he lost himself in the sight of their deep black eyes, was calm. A calm that wouldn't even make him melt to the floor in a formless pond. A calm that would only make him melt in the inside as his outer looks remained intact, a calm that brought warmth in his muscular chest, a calm that helped him keep it together and at the same time, relaxed his tensed focus he grew used to just to keep his body in shape. A calm he didn't even know he needed, relieving him from a pressure he didn't even know was there. He felt free, and at peace.

His smug grin naturally shifted to a relaxed, genuine smile, as he slowly handed them the mop handle. They delicately grasped it and he took that opportunity to hold their wrist. Even their pulse was calm. The warmth of their skin grew on him, and he slid a finger under their sleeve. It was soft skin wrapping them up. Soft skin on a soft soul... Talking of which, he tried something he rarely did : he sought to see their soul inside. He checked. He wasn't really good at it, but usually humans were carefree about their souls. This one however was hiding it completely. He could feel the soul nearly at reach, yet always escaping like a slippery snail somehow. He could not lend eyes on it, let alone grasp it. Curiosity grew at this new challenge.  
He had never bothered looking humans too closely before. He didn't think they could be really desirable, aside of their strong soul, yet this soul intensity was too much for him to handle anyway, as he preferred staying in control of himself and not let his partners disrturb his balance. He was more into outstanding shapes and colors, such as creatures of furr or feather or scale. Much richer, more interesting matter to stimulate his sense of touch. And way less soul intensity, with magic bonus.  
However, as this human had relieved him of his pressure, he felt truely balanced, in hold on himslef, with now free strength to put into someting else. And he discovered just how soft and subtle human skin could be. Did they have scars somewhere ? He liked caressing scars, these lines carved into flesh that broke texture continuity in such interesting patterns. He wished they had scars, for he planned on caressing the whole of them, soul included.  
He noticed they were lost in the contemplation of his handsome chest. He realised shapeless emotion fluids were dancing inside of him, and seeing how they gazed at it pleased him. Usually people didn't look at it too hard, either embarassed, intimidated or afraid to be rude. He didn't mind the gazes, though. He liked the gazes. And this human was giving him a whole lot of it, and he almost felt it graze all over him, which sparked a litteral wave lightly troubling his surface. He would soon loose himself if he dwelled into the sensation too much.  
The human was still holding the mop handle, and he was still holding their arm. He reluctantly broke contact, chuckling, as he spoke with his pleasant, handsome, flirty low tone :

« Ya like what ya see ? »  
They didn't phaze, only blinking as they kept watching his beautiful body on almost full display. They gave it some thought before simply stating :  
« Yes. It is very pretty. »  
This straightforward admission made him blush.  
He never blushed.  
Sure he was translucent, litterally and metaphorically. His emotions were no secret to those perceptive enough to interpret his color shifts. But he never blushed. He was the one in control, the one who made others blush.  
Quick, he had to take the lead back !  
« Hem, well. If- if ya ever want to see more of it, just ask, 'n I'm all yours. »  
They clearly weren't impressed with his poor performance at feigning confidence, as they replied neutrally, yet really nicely (clearly nicely enough for him to put his hopes up) :  
« Well, thank you.  
\- Y- yeah, just ask, yo. Ask anythin'. 'm here fer ya.  
\- Thank you again. This will prove really helpful. »  
''Helpful'' ? Did he just made himself the mutt of everybody's mutt ? He honestly didn't care. Any excuse to stay by them was okay. He could deal with the eventual jerks who might make fun of him. He had grown used to it. What he wasn't used to, was the witch that made him feel balanced and in control, and at the same time, unsettled and intimidated.

Damn this human was unique. He was looking forward to see their soul. He snapped out of daydreaming, which only lasted a split second, and managed to keep himself together as he changed subject, cowardly retreating from flirt as he wasn't up to their greater self-control :

« So, er, yeah ya might start 'round here, and ehm I think the human's shitting rooms needs sum cleaning too...  
\- I know exactly where to start. »  
He saw them gather the cleaning tools in the cart with swift, paced moves that had few to no superficial gestures and started towards the turn of the corridor.  
Startled, he followed them.  
« Hey, yo, there's nuthin' over there, Misty. »  
''Misty'' sounded good. They were as mysterious as an illusory mist. Also there was ''miss'' in it and he liked thinking of them like a girl. It almost sounded flirty, too, which was a plus.  
They didn't answer, instead taking a few turns as if they really knew where they were going. Where were they going actually ? He didn't go over there much- oh. He knew exactly what place they were now. That's where they kept eventual prisoners locked, and a few nasty stuff where comitted sometimes. Not that members of the Syndicate would be too reluctant at doing nasty, but this was a bit nastier stuff. As if require-a-lot-of-cleaning-and-dusting-afterwards nasty. Although the tallest of the bosses didn't check this corner of the hideout that often, so it wasn't completely cleansed from its disgusting aura. It was more Sans's area... and he was way less of a bother when it came to cleaning after that kind of nasty things. Especially when it was his own nasty things he just tended to let to rot behind.  
Misty stopped in front of a heavy metal door that they immediatly opened. It seemed easier than it should, though, which made him wonder if the room had been used recently.  
« H-hey, there's no point into cleanin' stuff here. No one use that room. » Yet.  
They didn't answer and stepped inside. He didn't follow, instead looking from outside, concerned.  
« Nah, really, c'm'on. Why do this ta yerself, Misty Witch. »  
He clearly could smell the odd, bugging scent of old dust and dried blood stains. Awkwardly enough, there was also a light, very light fragrance of cum, though covered by the diminished stink of shit. Curse his sharp smell. He couldn't imagine what it'd be to be a dog monster, as they were far finer smellers than him. Though it wasn't actual smell to him, since he breathed through his skin. Smells often felt like touch to him, which was even worse as he felt the disgusting scent litterally crawling over him.  
He could only watch as Misty confidently walked ahead to the bucket, certainly the most gruesome object of the room, topping even the aweful mattress. The whole smell of the room could as well all emanate from it.  
He gasped in horror as they sat and took it, covered it in some cleaning product then started to scrub with a metal sponge.  
He could do nothing else for the following long minutes.

He stayed there, flabberghasted by your calm, radiating confidence and control, sitting in the middle of what surely was the metaphorically and litterally filthiest corner of the hideout.

As you worked this place first, you were keenly aware of his presence, as he stayed there, watching you in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! Please comment if you have anything to say, what you think and all, it'd be super cool.  
I probably won't be posting next week.


	6. Lessons of the first Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Squeaky ATTacc !!! An' proTeCC !!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bitch to write. It ended up being way longer than necessary but I just can't bring myself to cut it or write it better for now. I need to go on or I might loose some precious motivation.  
I'll do anything to stay determined !!!  
Also little content warning: there is bullying. Well. To my opinion, it is petty and ridiculous. And the MC doesn't seem really affected for they manage to distant themself from really anything. But still, that's just mean and degrading. So you're warned.

Papyrus was pacing in his office, considering the profit report of last month compared to this month. He was frowning, deep in thoughts, his skull so full with his loud thoughts process and hammering suspicions that he didn't hear the quiet knocks on the door. As the treasurer rightly pointed out, something had been decreasing their gains. Shura could probably handle looking into it and might even catch the potential thief, but they were busy investigating into You- THE SERVANT's background. Papyrus’s teeth grinded in annoyance. Unluckily for them, at that exact moment You walked in. « OH, WONDERFUL, THE VERY PERSON I DIDN’T WANT TO SEE. » Papyrus growled, but was slightly glad they came in, since he needed someone to take out his frustration on and Shura was unavailable.  
« HOW COME YOU WALK IN MY OFFICE UNINVITED AND WITHOUT KNOCKING ? WHAT KIND OF DISRESPECT IS THAT ?? »  
He closed the gap between him and You in one long step. He grabbed them by the collar.  
« MORON, YOU WILL KNOW NOT TO DISRESPECT THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS-  
\- You asked me here, boss. »  
He slamed them (not too hard or he might break them too easily) to the wall.  
« HOW DARE YOU CUT ME ??  
\- Sorry, boss.  
\- AS I WAS SAYING, YOU WILL KNOW NOT TO DISRESPECT ME. NOW VOICE YOUR PATHETIC EXCUSE AND WE'LL SEE IF IT'LL MAKE ME RELENT. »  
They quietly answered, breathing in and out steadily. How frustrating that was not to get them to even shiver or sweat.  
« You called my name not too long ago, so I came here as fast as I could. I knocked on the door, too. I admit I didn't hear you answer but I assumed you were expecting me to come in anyway. Now I realise you probably didn't hear me, so I unintentionally trespassed, which I am greatly sorry for. »  
Oh, right. He did slam his door open earlier indeed, yelling their name, earning everybody's head to turn towards him. Of course they would. No one knew the janitor as ''You'', so calling this name around would only earn him confused and anxious stares. He had scowled and ordered everyone to go back to work and claimed he wanted THE SERVANT to come here. He decided SERVANT would be You's official nickname from now on, as ''Witch'' was simply ridiculously unfitting. (They didn't even use magic ! They were a simple human ! Really, ''Witch'' wasn't fitting at all.)  
« Is something wrong with the state of your office, boss ? Do you need me to dust the shelves ? »  
He snapped a crimson glare at them and they shut their mouth up. At least they were reactive enough.  
« DO YOU THINK I AM A LAZYBONE UNABLE TO TAKE CARE OF MY OWN PLACE ?  
\- No, boss.  
\- AM I CALLED SANS ? »  
They shook their head in negation.  
« AND WHY DID YOU EVEN SUGGEST DUSTING ? IS THERE AN UNDERLYING THREAT I SHOULD BE CONCERNED ABOUT ?  
\- I don't think there is anything about me that should concern you, boss. I am very sorry I used the d-word mindlessly, I have yet to get accustomed to work around monsters.  
\- THIS SOUNDS LIKE A STUPID MISTAKE, SERVANT. YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT STUPID MISTAKES. »  
Finally, they gulped. Their facial expression was still blank as a smooth pebble, but they had a reaction.  
« I know, boss. I am ready to face the consequences of it.  
\- OH, REALLY ? YOU THINK SO ?  
\- Yes, boss.  
\- … I SEE YOU DO. »  
He released them from his grasp but kept his crimson glare on them, making sure they knew they weren't out of it.  
« YOU LIED TO ME, TOO. DON'T YOU THINK THAT WHAT YOU SAID FOOLED ME, AS THERE IS INDEED SOMETHING. SOMETHING YOU HAVE BEEN FOOLISHLY HIDING FROM ME. »  
Anybody would be sweating bullets at their place. The fact that he dropped them and let them regain their composure didn't in any case make him less threatening, if not even more.  
« … Are you talking about my spider pet ? »  
He opened his jaw and shut it with a click. He didn't expect them to bring it up on their own. He expected them to attempt to lie and dig their own grave doing so, giving him an excuse to lash onto them. Now they just seemed like they weren't in the wrong, even while admitting they did hide something.  
« SHOW IT TO ME. »  
These last days, they had been seen wearing it on their shoulder or even on their head. Those of his guys that actually noticed it had been taken aback, but none had arachnophobia so it remained non-violent. But, most of the time, he knew thanks to Louis that they kept it in their front pocket and they had been seen sliping some of their food inside. Casey had come to him asking questions about spider monsters and monster animalistic sub races. That had surprised him a bit, but from what he knew, there was only two actual spider monsters herding their own spider familiars and none were a threat to the Syndicate : one was an outsider kept in the margin of society and had only little contact with the mafia, the other litterally worked for him and owned a pastry shop in center town. Casey had been visibly relieved and had finally talked about that... ''Squeaky'' of You's.  
Servant obediently pat their front pocket and the spider crawled out, taking its usual perch on their shoulder.  
Papyrus narrowed his eyesockets.  
A spider subordinate ?  
He may need to lash at something or someone to vent his frustration, but that particular subject required some clarification before assuming anything. Might as well test their honesty when he's at it, since he knew already everything from Casey.  
« WHEN AND WHERE DID YOU FIND IT. »  
Servant took a few seconds to gather their thoughts before answering :  
« A few weeks ago, in the Mayor's office. Ever since, it has been clinging onto me. I named it Squeaky.  
\- SO IT WAS ON YOU THE NIGHT YOU HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE.  
\- Yes. »  
Papyrus resumed pacing.  
« AND YOU HID IT FROM ME. YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A BRILLIANT IDEA TO KEEP SOMETHING LIKE THIS A SECRET, DID YOU NOT ?  
\- I thought I would simply let it loose whenever I could. I didn't even consider it like one of my pet, it wasn't my intention to keep it from you as I didn't think I would be keeping it in the first place.  
\- THAT HAS CHANGED.  
\- Yes. Now I would likely keep it as I grew attached to it, and as it won't leave me anyway.  
\- WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WILL ALLOW IT ?  
\- Nothing. I have no idea if you will let me have it or take it away. »  
Papyrus stopped pacing and stared at them, dumbfounded.  
« BUT... YOU DON'T EVEN TRY TO PROTECT IT FROM MY WRATH ?  
\- Would you harm it ?  
\- … »  
Papyrus wasn't used of being speechless. What made him speechless, anyway ? Their odd mix of boldness and politeness ? The fact that he never knew what they were thinking ? He didn't like that and quickly shrugged his bewilderment :  
« I- I GUESS NOT. »  
Did he just STUTTER ? No the Great Papyrus never stutters. He is confidence incarnate.  
« BUT I MIGHT AS WELL. YOU HOWEVER DIDN'T EVEN TRY TO PROTECT IT OR HIDE IT ANY LONGER. YOU BROUGHT IT HERE AND SHOWED IT TO ME KNOWING I CAN SNATCH IT AWAY. WHY ? »  
They looked at him straight in the eyesockets and said the following sentence as if it was the most obvious and natural thing in the world:  
« You are my boss now. You command, I oblige. »  
Papyrus was very aware that the pleasure he felt, hearing those words imbued with deceitful flattery, could lure him so he shook it off and resumed his questioning :  
« YOU MUST NOT LIKE IT THAT MUCH IF YOU ARE WILLING TO RISK IT.  
\- I like it very much, boss. I can only hope you won't take it from me. »  
Who exposed their vulnerabilities that easily ? Only fools or liars. He could not tell if they were lying but they were definitely a fool.  
« LEARN TO PUT YOUR HOPE IN SAFER PLACES. GIVE IT TO ME. »  
The Servant didn't even hesitate. Papyrus scrutinized them, trying to pierce through their blank stare, their neutral expression, their paced demeanor as they calmly took it from their shoulder, walked towards him and handed it with both hands.  
The hairy creature squealed in greeting, waving its front left paw.  
This carefree familiarity made him clench his jaw with a screech and he snatched it. He raised it to his eyesocket level, holding its thorax between two fingers. He could crush it to dust with just a bit more pressure if he wanted. He observed it for a few seconds.  
It definitely was a monster. Little did know that a rather large portion of monster population was composed of very animal-like creatures doted with certain consciousness and intelligence, yet physically unable to express it in a common way (or more specifically a human-intelligible way) and remained magically limited (with rare exceptions). Although they had long proved to be as sensible and capable as regular monsters despite their inability to speak, they always had been considered mere familiars or even pets, subordinated and put under the care and protection of a stronger, more ''sociably compatible'' monster. And that wasn't about to change any time soon as human society wasn't ready to think of them as anything more than animals. Monsters already had trouble having their rigths respected, they weren't in any rush to bring this subject to the light. Besides, having animal-like minions was an advantage against some ignorant human groups, so why exposing this secret ?  
Papyrus wasn't fluent in spider dialect, but he did have basic notions. The light squeals and clicks of chaliceras the small hairy monster was making while he was scrutinizing it were some sort of amused rambling. He did catch an expression of respect in the middle. 

« ARE YOU HUMORING ME, RUNT ? »  
The spider fell silent.  
« GOOD. NOW PAY PROPER RESPECT. »  
The small monster twitched its legs in his iron, yet delicate hold, positionning them in a certain fashion : the front pair crooked downwards under its thorax, its abdomen slightly raised, the pedipalps crossed in front of its cheliceras. Then it adressed Papyrus a low buzz and light squeal.  
A respectful enough aknowledgment of Papyrus's superiority, though it looked pretty much like it was faking a fart. Fortunately for it, Papyrus knew better and understood what that gesture truly meant.  
« THAT WILL DO. »  
He tipped it up. He knew Muffet's mignons had all a purple dot under their thorax in between the base of their numerous legs. As far as he could remember, all were black like this one though he couldn't remember seeing any that were so fuzzy.  
The purple dot was there, though faded, and at some places it was sprinkled with white.  
He had no clue what that meant. Was this a sign of an other monster's ownership ?  
He tipped it back down so it was facing him again.  
« MUFFET ? »  
It clicked its cheliceras. It knew this name but didn't seem to be bonded to it.  
Now that was curious. He knew the other spider monster had minions too but he had no clue why one would be so far away from him.  
« SILKYWAY ? »  
No reaction. Squeaky seemingly had no idea who that was.  
He frowned and gave it the last name he could think of.  
« … YOU ? »  
The spider squealed happily and waved its pedipalps in praise, wiggling its eight legs as well. Now that was quite the show of adoration.  
« WHAT?! UGH, NOW I HAVE SEEN EVERYTHING. »  
He glared at Servant and was taken aback by the smile brightening their face, so unexpected he stood agaped for a second before regaining his dignified composure.  
« … WHAT ARE YOU GOGGLING AT ?!  
\- You spoke to it. »  
Papyrus realised what he must have looked like to the ignorant human, holding a spider to eye level and speaking to it. He scoffed.  
« OF COURSE I DID. IT IS A SPIDER FAMILIAR, A SUBORDINATE KIND OF MONSTER. IT IS ABLE TO UNDERSTAND OUR LANGUAGE, THOUGH UNABLE TO SPEAK IT. »  
He dropped it unceremoniously. It paid no mind, crawling quickly back to its master to climb on their shoulder.  
« ALSO ''IT'' IS PROBABLY A ''HE-TO-BECOME'', BUT MAY STILL SHIFT TO A ''SHE'' ACCORDING TO THE CONTEXT OF ITS FUTURE BLOSSOM. »  
You gaped at him and scooped Squeaky, cupping it delicately in their hands, eyeing it with renewed consideration.  
« Really ? I had no idea.  
\- AS EXPECTED FROM AN IGNORANT HUMAN. I AM CERTAIN YOU HAVE NO CLUE WHAT A BLOSSOM IS.  
\- Is it a form of evolution period to adulthood, caused and causing shifts in magic ?  
\- … YES. IT IS EXACTLY THAT. WHO TOLD YOU.  
\- I just guessed, but Louis also told me something about ''puberty'' being the human equivalent for a ''blossom''. Also while humans work with hormones, monsters work with magic. I don't know much details. »  
He sighed. His mood had lightened. For some reason, this spidery inspection and interrogation had eased his mind. Despite the barrier of language, Papyrus had always liked speaking to familiars. There was something satisfying into getting results from simplier beings. There was a time Papyrus had been nurturing the dream of owning his own minions like Muffet, envying her from afar, but he never managed to gain the absolute loyalty of a single spider, temmie, fireling or even snail. There was a time he would be jealous of You, who hardly tried and didn't even realise they were adored and would be served to dust.  
« IT IS SUBORDINATED TO YOU FOR SOME UNFATHOMABLE REASON. YOU MAY KEEP IT FOR NOW... BUT MISBEHAVE ONCE AND I WILL LOCK IT AWAY. MISBEHAVE TWICE AND I WILL HURT IT. MISBEHAVE MORE AND YOUR FAMILY AT HOME WILL SUFFER.  
\- Yes, boss. »  
Their smile had faded and let place to their usual blankness. But now that Papyrus paid proper attention, he could still see a glimpse of that smile in their eyes, that were looking right at him. It made him feel... Well. It made him feel what he would probably feel looking at a loyal minion.  
« GOOD. NOW POLISH MY DESK. I WANT IT TO SHINE WHEN I GET BACK. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT SNOOPING. I WILL KNOW IF YOU DO. »  
He closed the few opened files scattered on his desk and put them in his secured drawer, locking it with louder-than-necessary clicks.  
« I HEARD LOUIS WERE USUALLY FOLLOWING YOU AROUND. ANY IDEA WHERE HE IS ?  
\- He must be trying to seem busy not far away from your door, waiting for me to come out. »  
As they were starting to work on the desk, they looked at him.  
« He has been of great help. He only is following me around because he knows I must be supervised. And he does that well.  
\- YOU WON'T BE SUPERVISED TODAY. »  
Then he just left.

…  
You had no idea whether he said that because he started to trust you, or if he just said that to see how you would act on a whole day without supervision.  
…  
You would likely not behave any differently.

Once out of his office, Papyrus stomped straight to the slime whistling in a corner. ''Trying to seem busy'' ? Hardly, he was laidback on the wall. But Louis had really not much to do when he was at the hideout. His skills were more useful on the field, and since there was an official janitor now he didn't even had chores to attend to. Although, he did straighten up when he saw Papyrus stomping his way, visibly getting nervous.  
The tall skeleton appreciated that. He remembered a time when Louis was far from a good recruit. However Papyrus knew his skills would come very useful to the Syndicate so he worked him hard. In the end, it was worth it. Louis even made himself look a lot less like a slug, his slimy nature only ever present when he actively remodeled his shape. Well, it was only natural that his subordinate worked himself in an attempt to meet his standards.  
The tall skeleton eyed his outfit. Only jean shorts, per usual. Although he expected everybody under his command to be presentable, he tolerated Louis's specific fasion tastes as it impacted directly his performances : as a slime most of his senses were spread out throughout his skin. So the more he exposed it, the more perceptive he got, and on the contrary, the more he covered himself, the more blind and restrained he got. Him feeding on the ambiant light and air gave him even more reasons to walk around naked, but he did comply to wear shorts. Although Papyrus came to think sometimes that wearing ridiculously short shorts actually made it even more obvious the fact that he was practically naked. He wondered if wandering actually naked wouldn't make his nudity less bugging.  
Papyrus crossed his arms once he was in front of his subordinate and gave him his orders. The tension left Louis's shoulders as a smirk slowly crept up his face.

***

The week had passed rather smoothly, you thought once you finished mirror-polishing the boss's desk. All considered, your situation wasn't as dire as it could have seemed. Sure you missed your family dearly. But any time your thoughts wandered to them, you forced the image of the nice Braxton taking care of them so your worries vanished. You were left with no news, but their keepers were all really busy people so you guessed they wouldn't come to you everyday to report on your pets.  
Your days were quite interesting anyway. You slept in a room used as a dorm, full of bunk beds and closets. It wasn't used at its full for most of the mobs had their own homes in the city, but it was useful to a few nonetheless. You never saw the same faces every night, so you assumed they were rolling for some scheduling reason.  
The base was always animated, too. There was always at least a few people working in some rooms, and you supposed the area outside was guarded at all times. 

The chores to atend to were pretty basic. Nothing you hadn't done already, although the diversity of the tasks had startled you at first : you had to sweep around as well as fixing car mechanics if the usual grease monkey wasn't there for it, and though you never got to drive a car yourself you knew fairly well the engine's insides. You even had sometimes to prepare packed lunch for some group going out on mission (though you'd be ordered to taste it in front of them before they went) and make coffee or tea for everyone. Although you were not a coffee person yourself, you enjoyed preparing it. You personnally preferred tea, and back home, you used to brew your own recepies of diverse plant infusions that grew in your greenhouse. You missed your own teas. You heard that Papyrus was a tea lover too, but he wouldn't allow anyone to prepare it for him, as the perfectionist he was, he wanted to indulge his delicate pallet himself.  
Seeing the activity and hearing conversations informed you of the ways around here and you quickly put your marks as people didn't take much time to get used to having you around (or simply didn't notice your presence). Your sore shoulder didn't bother you too much, as pain started to fade after the second day.  
And since you were used of a tight schedule, waking early and sleeping late, you were left with some spare time in the morning, before Louis joined you and you could really start your day. Since you couldn't just wander around in case someone noticed you and found your behavior suspicious, you spent it staying in the dorm after your cold morning shower, taken in the rarely used bathroom next to the dorm. You had no other clothes than your previous work uniform, but you managed to keep it clean. You stretched and meditated until you could start working. Eventually, on the second day, you asked a mob if you could read the books he kept on his mat. Surprisingly enough, he accepted. So you started reading every morning before Louis came back.

Louis always seemed to notice you, as he was specifically looking for you at all times. You didn't mind him following around. As he said, he was charged of supervising you. Beside, his presence brought some more interest in your day : seeing him interact and discuss with others really helped you figure out how things worked.  
When no one was interacting with him, he talked about himself. You listened. He told you how he came into the Syndicate. How he grew from a sluggish pile of gelley to what he was now. How he admired the boss for his high standards and radiating confidence. How he wished he would grow to meet all his standards (platonically).  
Your learnt a lot about Papyrus thanks to him. Your respect towards the tall loud skeleton grew significantly, though you didn't set your mind just yet, as you had still to see for yourself how respectable he truly was.

It felt really strange not to be followed constantly, now. Louis had been a constant source of noise that managed to not be disquieting at all. And very informative, be it intentionnal or not.  
At the insistance of Louis, you had a really long lunch break in the middle of your day despite the amount of chores you had at hand. He put it to good use : he brought you your lunch, which you were grateful for though you could as well cook it yourself in the hideout's kitchen, and spent the whole break answering your questions, as you were usually keeping them for yourself when you were busy working. It soon turned into real lesson sessions, though most of his teachings started off as him boasting about his own achievements. Like that one very particular lesson you had on your third day :

« … So ya see, da guy shot me down but it didn't stop me. So I got up an'-  
\- How so ? Taking a bullet is painful.  
\- Bullets ain't working on no monsters, Misty. May be a pain, but never deadly. Not even dat dangerous really. »  
Louis was the only one to call you ''Misty''. The others called you either ''janitor'', ''maintainer'', ''Witch'' or ''Servant''. Or, surprisingly, ''You'' but you suspected that was a coincidence as the bosses kept your real name a secret.  
« What do you mean bullets don't work on monsters ?  
\- Monsters ain't harmed by no bullets.  
\- How ? »  
Louis took an inspiration, signal for a lesson to start. He stood up and pulled a white board from somewhere out of sight and took a blue board pen.  
« 'kay so take a situation like dis one : a human's attackin' a monster with a gun. Now what's a human made of ?  
\- Pretty much many things : Oxygen at 65%, Carbon at 18%, Hydrogen at 10%, Calcium at 2-  
\- Yeah, well let's keep it simple. Two things : a soul... »  
He drew a heart on the half-left of the board.  
« … An' a body around it. »  
He framed the heart with a square.  
« Now what's a monster made of ?  
\- … A soul and a body ?  
\- Yep' ! »  
He drew an upside-down heart on he right half of the board, framed with a circle.  
« Now in a human, the soul's very very powerful, but has few to no bound to da body, 'n da body is thicc. »  
He thickened the square figuring the body around the heart.  
« In a monster, da soul's almost merged with da body. Every move, every magic is expression o' da soul, an' every inch o' da body is linked to da soul. »  
He slightly erased the upside-down soul so it was now drawn with dots.  
« 'S everythin' clear so far ?  
\- I think so. But don't every move and word of a human expression of the soul either ? »  
He chuckled.  
« Ah, Misty, yer sweet. If only. Nah, humans don't use their soul da same way. Usually a move is a human's soul expression only if they put real intent into it, or better, if da move is driven by raw emotion. See, a human's soul is strong, filled with powerful emotions, but da body's too thick to let it out like monsters do with magic, so ya gotta really be heavy on emotion fer it to sip outta yer body through yer limbs an' all. Or get yer soul out of yer body but dat's dangerous ta ya an' people 'round if it's handle poorly... But, eh. I'm ain't any expert on human soul an' stuff. So I dunno. »  
You nodded. So far, it made sens to you.  
« Now ya wonder, what it has to do with shootin' a monster with a gun ? Well. »  
He drew a gun next to the ''human'', with a bullet inside de canon, aiming at the monster.  
He erased a bit of the square and extended an appendice from it for it to ''hold'' the weapon, figuring the arm and the hand.  
« Da gun is held by the human's body, right ?  
\- Right.  
\- Well. Here's what happens when ya shoot : »  
He drew a bullet out of the canon, voicing a ''bang !'', then a line up to the ''monster'', whistling, then made the line cross it and ''banged'' when the line touched the end of the board.  
« There. Ya get it ?  
\- … The bullet went through the monster ?  
\- Yep. Guess why ?  
\- … Uh. »  
You were genuinely confused.  
« Lemme explain, Misty : a human may be hurt, wounded, harmed by physical attacks or mere accidents. »  
He blurred the square a bit.  
« 'Cuz da human body's like a big machine, if anythin's missin' er if its surface is breached, they like, bleed ta death er sumthin'. Dat's why it's so easy ta kill a human. Humans get killed by really anythin'. Their soul ain't bound ta their body, it can even live on without it fer a while. But. Monsters ain't the same. Remember what I said 'bout monster soul an' body ?  
\- They are merged.  
\- Kinda. Well, 's possible ta see a monster soul out of its body an' all, but it'll be always bond ta it an' da body can't stay consistent without its core, da soul. So actually a monster body ain't made of physical matter like a human's. A monster body is freakin' simple. It's just dust, modeled into a livin' being, with different caracteristics 'n traits accordin' to the likin' of da soul holdin' it togethah with magic.  
\- So, the body is just a shell conveying the soul's will ?  
\- … Kiiiinda. Yeah. But not jus' a shell. I mean, if ya wanna hurt a monster ya gotta harm da soul. It's da soul da matter. As long as da soul is whole, safe an' sound, da body may crumble it's gonna restore itself to it's fittest shape in a blink. Or longer dependin' on da monster's constitution. Harmin' da body alone is useless, unless ya destroy it to da very limit of what da soul can sustain, but really a soul can live off a single grain of dust so ya better be real motivated 'n perseverant ta do it this way. As long as da soul isn't touched, it will provide da body enough matter an' magic to restore itself entirely within short time anyway, though, a lack of body matter is quite a pain in the ass and beyond a certain point it is a matter of real force of will ta restore yerself to yer fittest.  
\- But you said soul and body are merged, sort of. So harming the body should harm the soul too.  
\- Yeah. But not with purely physical attacks or mere accidents.  
\- What do you mean ? Can one harm a monster only with magic ?  
\- Magic affects monster pretty hard, yup. But it's not only that. Ya see, humans can't use magic but they gotta strong soul, with strong emotions. If a human strikes a monster with enough intent, dat intent will burst from da soul an' sip through the attack and affect da monster. As long as there is contact between the attack an' da soul.  
\- You said a human soul and body weren't connected.  
\- Sort of. But the soul is stuck inside and its intent is burstin'out of it »  
He used a red pen to fill the heart, then draw lines shining out of it, reverberated by the square's limits, then crawling inside the appendice holding the gun, then the gun and the bullet inside.  
« Ya get it ? Ta harm a monster ya gotta strike with intent. Battle with emotion. Ya see, there, da gun is charged with murderous intent. Er, well I'm usin' red fer it but intent doesn't have a specific color ya can see it but it ain't a thing of color but eh, well, ya get it. So, ya see, da gun is charged with murder intent. Da bullet inside o' it, is touchin' the gun, dat is touchin' da hand, dat is filled with da intent pouring from da soul. See ? Da bullet is daaaangerous. Filled with murder intent. Get in touch with' it ya die. See ?  
\- I see very well.  
\- Yeah. Now da human shoots. Where goes da bullet ?  
\- Out of the gun.  
\- Yup. Now da bullet goes out of da gun. Now is da bullet charged with murder intent ?  
\- … No ?  
\- Nope it isn't. Ya really smart, Misty. Now da bullet goes through da monster, hardly dealin' any damage. A mere inconvenience. Ya may shoot right in da noggin', it won't harm it. Da monster's soul ain't hurt. Da head will miss sum dust an' physicall matter fer a short while, but not long later it will have recovered. Also ya don't even have trauma outta it since monster's mind and smarts ain't located in a specific place in da body, it's a soul thing too. Ya get it ?  
\- I think I do.  
\- Ya'd better strike a monster with any melee weapon ya'd be way more efficient than with a gun. Ya'd be dealin' more damage an' be a greater danger armed with' a fuckin' spoon, so long as ya strike with da proper intent, fueled with a strong, blazin' emotion yer soul can produce. A gun ? Tsh. Any range weapon is useless, if ya were ta fight a monster with a gun ya'd better use it like a hammer ta bludgeon da shit outta da freak, but don't shoot. Well, da noise might disturb a bit but- eh. Don't use a gun. Ya can't really use a gun properly on monsters. Dat's why human mobs are so dumb' an' easy ta deal with : they know their weapon. They use da gun the way a pro uses a gun : they shoot. I'd be more concerned and wary crossin' a simple construction site if a stupid random worker ever got the unpredictable idea ta hammer me by surprise, than facin' a heavily weaponized group o' mafiosi.  
\- So any tool or object is a potential deadly weapon, as long as it is used by a real murderer ?  
\- Yeah, sorta. Especially if yer familiar with the object. Ya don't know how ta use a gun, right ? But ya know how ta use a spoon. Now eating a soup's waaay different than spoonin' a monster's metaphorical heart out, but still. Yer usin' a spoon every damn day so the feelin' of the tool in yer hand is familiar, compfortable. Way better to convey yer intent, be it eatin' yer damn soup with passion or murdering yer collegues. »  
You couldn't help but be aware of the stares some surrounding ''collegues'' were giving Louis's expose. You couldn't start to wonder what the bosses might think of you learning how to hurt them. But learning about their natural vulnerabilities wasn't going to turn you into a monster slayer. You were just the janitor, not a murderer, and you highly doubted you could ever muster the emotions needed to nurture the intent to kill. Said like Louis worded it, it seemed rather simple : you just had to want it. Well. There wasn't much you wanted, and killing had never been one of them. Louis went on :

« Well. Monster ain't all naked an' vulnerable either. I mean, we're all different, but our body is made ta protect us a bit. Our natural defenses do make a difference. They rely on the amount o' dust we're composed of, da toughness o' our soul, an' a few things related to race an' environment an' all... too complicated stuff ta explain now. As well as the properties o' the weapon an' da way it's used too ; but if da opponent's intent is too powerful, no natural defense can protect no shit. So we need ta wear physical protections too, 's way simplier than practicin' years to beef up our natural def' that is flawed anyway, er consume dust on a regular basis hopin' our soul will absorb it and turn it into a protective dead shell 'round our proper body.  
\- But, you are practically naked. You wear no protection of any sort. »  
He smirked smuggly.  
« Dat's cuz I'm freakin' good at my job, Misty. Ain't touched by no dumb human's attacks. »

An other day, the very first after the one you met him, he used lunchtime as a whistling contest. He won, of course. You had never whistle before, but he taught you patiently. He proved to have very specific knowledge of human's mouth anatomy as he gave you clear indications on how to position your tongue, your lips, and how parted your jaws should be, and how to use your throat's tightness to modulate the whistle's intensity. After long minutes of blowing silently and listening to his indications, you finally managed to produce a weak whistle that sounded like a victory. He clapped and praised you, and you couldn't help to feel warmth in your chest at your accomplishment, as silly as it was. Well, you knew how to whislte now, but you were far from intoning any melody yet. That still needed some practice.

And practicing you did. In the evening, after your last chore had been attended to, you would whistle in the dorm as long as no one entered, then you would stop. You would then resume under the shower in the morning. There was no way you would whistle during work, as it wasn't in your habit to be loud. You kept your discreet demeanor, Louis being loud enough for the two of you anyway. Every day since at lunch time, however, Louis would demand to hear your improvements. And every day you would improve at least a bit. Whistling, however, remained a thing you had with Louis. Not a thing you had with yourself, as you had no interest into producing any noise when you were on your own. You had more interest into listening, which is why you whistled mainly into the shower, the sound of pouring water covering any other music. Thus, you started taking a bit more time to wash yourself. Not too much time though, as you wouldn't bother anyone who might need the bathroom. You didn't see much people using it however. Maybe because not a lot of people stayed many days straight, and most of them preferred to have a wash at their own home. Or maybe it had something to do with the fact that the water remained ice cold. You probably would have to check on that some day, but it might be intended not to have hot water. For economy perhaps. Or maybe to toughen up people's mind in a very Papyrus-esque fashion.

You remembered Louis's reaction the first time he saw Squeaky. It was perched on your head and Louis was rambling about himself per usual -he never ran out of stories about himself, but you didn't know whether he had a really intense life or if he was simply a liar ; in any case, you liked listening to him and you didn't care to know if those stories were true or not-. Only after a few hours of following you around did he pause, staring at you, keeping silence for a good minute and a half. A score. Then he said :  
« Stay still, Misty, there's a bug on yer pretty head. »  
He aimed his hand as if slapping Squeaky, but he stopped when you answered :  
« Yes, this is Squeaky. Squeaky, Louis. »  
You heard Squeaky squeal in greeting. Such polite little thing. Louis didn't faze, though he kept silent a bit longer before he shrugged and resumed his usual rambling.

But Louis wasn't there today, which made you wonder what you would do at lunchbreak. You wouldn't have to take as long to eat, so you would likely work more before indulging a shorter thirty minute break instead of the two-hours one Louis insisted you have. You would prepare your own meal at the kitchen, with those of a few mobs that would demand it to you. Then you would just sit down, not far from other groups, listnening absentmindedly to their conversations. So, come lunchbreak, you just did that and found a huge bowl filled with candies placed in the entrance of the messhall. A sign said ''take one''.You wondered what the occasion was and took one, thinking that a bit of sugar couldn't harm you. Then you sat alone on a chair in the mess hall, though it was more like a big workroom, weapons and other pieces of some machineries littering some tables. Papyrus was a very organized person and expected his guys to be just as organized and respect the structure's functions delimitations, but apparently, it wasn't strictly followed. Which made you wonder how strict Papyrus was exactly. He was, if the various stories you heard were any indication. But he still let go of some things, probably too busy dealing with more important. What he would certainly not let go of, though, was the number of beer people were drinking around the room. Papyrus didn't allow alcohol and drug usage within the hideout, for obious security reasons. If people wanted to get drunk, they could just go to a bar on their free time. But apparently, once both skeletal bosses were out, beers were opened. Only just beers though, as far as you could see, though one could still get seriously drunk with those. You thought at least one or too lieutenants would be there to keep order, but apparently all were busy elsewhere. All conditions were gathered for the guys of lower ranks to relax and have a drink at lunch, confirming the expression ''when the cat's away the mice will play''. Risking, doing so, the entire chapter's safety if there were any assault on the base. Oh, well. This wasn't exactly your responsability, so you just kept on eating, petting Squeaky who purred quietly on your lap, feeding it with bits of your own meal per usual.

Suddenly, you heard a ruckus just on you right. A man stood up from his chair, a few steps away from you, holding a beer he spilled on himself and the floor. He cursed loudly, insulting the other man who was laughing next to him.  
The former cursed again -you grew accustomed to hearing curses all the time, but you still cringed a bit- and yelled :  
« Where's the fuckin' servant ?? That fucker spilled my beer ! »  
You stood up, setting Squeaky aside on your cart -you didn't bother to put it away given how short your break woud be-, and answered quietly :  
« I see that. We will clean the mess, now shall we. »  
The man nearly jumped out of startlement.  
« Shit ! You here ?  
\- Yes. »  
You produced a sponge from one of your pockets. The man chuckled.  
« Shit, you're right were people call you. A perfect slave. »  
You blinked at the word, but also at the tone. That tone came quite late in the week compared to your expectations of work in a chapter's hideout. A condescending, dirty tone that intended to belittle you. A tone you weren't quite used to, as it was a rarity that people actually talked to you, but a tone you wouldn't mind too much. A tone that you heard here, in the Syndicate's hideout, a few days late compared to your previous job at the mayor's office, where you had heard it on your very first day when the Mayor blamed you for the previous janitor's mistakes.  
You didn't answer and kneeled, starting to sponge the beer that would quickly stick if you didn't take care of it now. You heard him chuckle and the rest of the room starting to quiet a bit.  
You felt liquid dropping on your back. You raised your head and saw him spilling the rest of his beer on you.  
That, however, never happened in the mayor's office.  
Memories of you earliest job at the Transverse Sciences College flood the back of your mind. You breathed annoyance out. This was your sole work uniform.  
« Sir, that is very rude. »  
He cracked a laugh and his friend next to him followed. The room was silent now, and you felt nearly everybody's stare on the scene that rude man was making. You, however, didn't break eyecontact with him. A few seconds passed without you doing anything else than staring intently and him laughing. Eventually, he stopped and snarled.  
« Hey. It ain't gonna clean itself. »  
You sighed and returned to your task at hand. He would eventually grow bored of it as he wouldn't get any reactions. Papyrus himself relented on threatening you seriously once you had talked and obeyed. This man's petty games weren't any threat to you.  
As to confirm, you heard him stepping aside. Then you heard liquid spilling on the floor, followed by a few laughs. You turned you head and saw him spilling another glass smugly.  
You were surprised that a few people around were immature enough to actually laugh at that. You noticed that the vast majority just lost interest and vacated to their occupation, while an other part were still watching, mindly curious yet unamused.  
One woman said : « Quit it, Joe. You're making a mess. »  
''Making a mess'' meant that someone would eventually get in trouble with the boss, as the boss despised mess above all. Oh, and that was probably a pun too as a few snickered at it. Also ''Joe'' meant trouble to you, as you recalled his name associated with tales of various scenes, pranks, jokes all of a pretty bad taste. This man thought he was the funny guy, while he was just being a jerk. He didn't get into enough trouble to make him rethink his behavior though.  
He ignored the woman's intervention, and the woman didn't interfere any further either, watching instead.  
You stood up. A sponge wouldn't be enough ; you walked to your cart and took the mop handle. You came back to the wasted alcohol and silently resumed your task.  
Joe walked in a circle around you and took another glass one of his friend handed him. He poured it on the floor again, looking smugly at you.  
You didn't stare back, but kept on working thoughtfully. This situation was unusual. You used to be bullied in you old job at the College, mostly by a group of young fools, too rich and too stupid for their own good. They would prove very creative back then. What this man was doing just wasn't even of the caliber of what a bunch of kids -well, yong adults- did. Still, it was a rather annoying situation and you would likely remedy it efficiently instead of just mopping what he spilled around. You should find a way to act up on that instead of patiently wait, or this would drastically escalate.  
You thought about it as he poured his fourth glass on the floor, laughing loudly.  
« So how're you doin' without Louis to lick up your ass, hu ? Wondered who of the two was the dog. Now I know. »  
Oh, so he would have acted that way sooner if it wasn't for Louis supervising you. Interesting enough, though you doubted he would have even noticed you in the first place if it weren't for Louis being so loud around you. He continued :  
« Both of you. You're a dog, and he made himself the dog's mutt. »  
He barked in laughter, and a few of his friends followed his lead. The others watching, though, didn't even smirk. Some quirked a brow, some others scoffed.  
Well, Louis's enthusiasm and attention-yearning did recall you of a puppy sometimes. But he was no dog to you. People may talk dirty about you if they please, as long as they didn't harm you, but you really disliked when they talked dirty about one of the few people that actually paid attention to you. Sure you didn't feel considered by Louis, for the few days he had been following you, the same way you had felt considered by Braxton for the very brieve time you had seen him, but Louis had been a pleasant company and very helpful too. You even had a bit of fun practicing whistling. All considered, Louis might be what was the closest to a friend you had here. An ally.  
You had heard some gruesome stories about Louis. People would talk about his old days as a sluggish pile of gelley, and would shiver when they started talking about their missions with him. Then they'd stop. No one apparently wanted to talk or even think about what they saw Louis do on missions. But whatever he did or said, he was your only ally here either way.  
That probably was why you let a bit of annoyance morph into a stinging shard of anger. You let it sting a bit in your chest, listening to that jerk insulting your ally in his back. Of course he would say those filth when Louis wasn't around to defend his honor.  
You finished mopping the spilled alcohol, finally breathing anger away. You didn't know Louis that well, did you ? Was he worth loosing your composure ? Surely not. No one was, not even yourself. Still, you didn't like how Joe was speaking about him-  
And now food. Food fell from a table. Joe smirked, contended with himself as he pushed an other carton plate.  
Did he have ever felt hungry in his life ? Truely hungry ? No one who had been starving would waste food just to humiliate someone else. You had been hungry for a while, long ago. Long ago you would have crawled to eat the food he just tossed on the ground. Some disgusted stares in the assistence told you some people here felt the same.  
« Clean it up, whore. Look. There's filth just there. »  
You stared at his smug, contended jerk face.  
Well.  
You had passed the past few days learning how things worked around here, and it had become soon apparent that these guys reverred strength, cunning, superiority, power. They all despised what they could associate to weakness, especialy any kind of submissive behavior. Not the submission you would show to your superior or to a more powerful mob, no. Submission from simply knowing your place was normal behavior. The submission one would show when they didn't have self-respect, though, was what they despised and laughed at.  
That man clearly had a misunderstanding about who you were. You couldn't blame him, you weren't a very sociable person. Who would know who you are, when no one even noticed you unless someone brought attention to you, and you didn't like bringing attention anyway.  
Joe obviously confused your obedience with the utmost form of submission, assimilating it to slavery. He thought you had no self-respect.  
A rather common confusion sadly. Just as people used to confuse your quietness with shyness, people often confused your obedience with submission. That was the way it was.  
You would normally brush it off with a quiet sigh and go on with your task.  
But you weren't in your usual setting. You were in the base of the Syndicate, and a certain number of people here liked to be entertained with the misfortune of weaker beings.  
… Just like everywhere else, really. Only here they wouldn't be subtle about it. They might even get cruder than anywhere else.  
You decided you wouldn't like them getting crude with you.  
Just as you decided that, he laughed again and grabbed his crotch barking :  
« There's filth here too ! Come clean it with your tongue ! »  
What man would seriously associate his own genitals with filth and think he was being smart and funny ?  
You considered a second rubbing his face on the wasted food on the floor, making him clean his own mess and scrub his dirty head with the alcohol-soaked mop.  
But that would be very rude, wouldn't it ? You are no rude person. You are better than this.  
You opened your mouth and said with your usual quiet voice, though you put some more intent into it, just enough to ensure that, despite the laughter around, he and a few other people would hear you :

« So much for showing self-respect, sir.  
\- Whaddya say ? » You knew he clearly heard what you said.  
« I said, » You responded cooly, « that talking dirty about someone who isn't even here is cowardly. It doesn't come as a surprise that you express your thoughts on Louis the very day he isn't here to respond. »  
His face turned red. He erructed :  
« What the fuck ya think ya know 'bout self-respect, cunt ?! Ya just fuckin slave ! Ya here cleanin' shit fer free !  
\- Then I suppose I am very unworthy ?  
\- You got it, ya fuckin' dirty cunt.  
\- If I am such an unworthy thing, what pride would you gain by getting me to ''clean you with my tongue'' ? You call me dirty. If I am, then you most certainly wouldn't want me to be anywhere near you, let alone touch you. Unless you are just as dirty, if not more. »  
He walked up to you in a few angry steps. You stood there, waiting for him, silently preparing yourself for-  
He slapped you on the face so hard you heard it echoe in the quiet room and you stepped back, startled, though you really shouldn't be surprised. Pain erupted on your cheek, though it was endurable. It would only leave a bruise for a few days.  
« Ya gotta learn yer place before talkin' shit ! Yer not gonna teach me self-respect, ya whore !  
\- Well, didn't you call your own genitals ''filth'' ? So much for a self-respectful man. »  
That triggered some laughs in the crowd gathered around you. Joe really didn't like it.  
He punched you in the stomach. You bent forward, and fell on your knees. You body urged to rend your recently acquired meal, but you held back, just as you held back the tears and the sob. You wouldn't give away any satisfying reaction to him. You felt his shoe pining your head on the floor.  
So much for self respect, uh.  
« Someone's gotta get you back in your place, fucker. »  
Pain clouded your mind a second, and the position plus your own struggle to keep your cool didn't allow you to breathe properly. Words escaped your mouth before you could mind them :  
« I know my place fairly well, sir. Do you know yours ? »  
He pinned your head down more. You forced a breath to clear your thoughts.  
Suddenly he relented, stepping a few steps back muttering curses under his breath as you felt the smooth steps of Squeaky crawling on your back.  
« What the fuck's that shit ? »  
Squeaky crawled fast over your head and started chasing Joe, squealing angrily.  
You breathed and slowly stood back on your feet.  
Joe was walking backwards in circles, trying to stomp on the ungodly large spider chasing him menacingly.  
Laughter spread in the crowd and some bets were settled.  
You weren't worried for Squeaky. It was fast and reactive enough to dodge Joe's big shoe, and no one seemed to intend to catch or harm it. Instead you focused on gathering yourself and breathing pain away. It was more difficult than breathing emotions down, as pain would linger whatever you did against it except giving it proper care, but you could keep control over yourself and not flinch over it, if you gave it enough endeavor.  
Once you were back to your usual self, you rubbed some filth off your work uniform, frowning at the fact that you would have to spend the whole day in dirty clothes until you could clean them in the night. Then you sighed and called Squeaky.  
The adorable hairy spider stopped chasing the jerk around and ran to you. Joe was ridiculously standing on one feet trying to stomp it and its sudden change of direction made him slip, falling heavily on the food he sullied. You would have smirked if the sight of wasted food wasn't so infuriating -well. More like fairly annoying since you blew your anger down.  
You took you mop back, since you had dropped it somewhere in the process of your petty humiliation. Squeaky climbed on its perch on your shoulder and you laid eyes on a furious Joe trying to get back on his feet, failing miserably since the floor was slippery from his waste and your care.

You managed to speak over the laughter that fueled on Joe's misfortune, though you weren't any less quiet than usual :  
« I should be flattered you spent so much effort into trying to degrade me, sir. But as hard as I try to feel anything for you, I can only hardly manage to be sorry for the waste of food.  
\- Tryin' ? Tryin' ? Fuck- yer face was on the ground under my shoe !  
\- It was indeed. Yet I don't feel degraded in the slightest. »  
You tilted your head ever so slightly, looking down to him with your blank stare.  
« Do you, now ?  
\- Fuck you cunt ! You- you'll pay for this !  
\- I can't pay for anything you brought on yourself, sir. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work. »  
You turned around and pushed your cart to the exit. You didn't pay any attention on the laughs you left behind nor to the insults Joe was vomiting, focused on your upcoming tasks. You knew you would have to go back to clean the mess hall eventually, but not right away as there was too many people dirtying it yet. As soon as you were out of the mess hall, you pat Squeaky to thank it, earning a soft purr. You gave it your candy to reward it for its bravery. It munched happily, spitting some tiny crumbs on your shoulder. You didn't mind, it was already dirty anyway.

The week passed smoothly. Joe gave you a new nickname, ''slave''. He was the only one to use it, though. He quickly stopped, oddly enough, as some of his collegues really didn't like the sound of that word and swiftly shoved it back down his throat, figuratevely yet somewhat litterally too. You earned an other nickname, though ; as a lot of people claimed you enhanced the nickname ''Witch'' with the spider familiar attack -even though you never asked Squeaky to protect you-, a part of the mobs started calling you ''Sass'' and you heard some ''Sub''. You couldn't imagine why. And all the while, a certain part of the members of the Syndicate still had no idea who you were as they hadn't ever noticed you yet and were utterly confused when you came to be the topic of conversations during the few days following Joe's humiliation.

The altercation had may been a bit painful, it did something good : no one seemed interested into bullying you anymore. First because most of people were busy working and had better hobbies to vent their anger and frustration on, second because even if they considered bullying you they knew you wouldn't likely be any fun to play with. Even your assumed taste for humiliation, as some people interpreted your words as a thankful remark, weren't expressive enough to spark anything in anyone. You half-expected people to start a betting pool to see who would earn a non-verbal, emotive reaction from you, but you didn't hear about it. Maybe the betting pool did exist but only a few people were insterested into it, namely Joe and his ''friends'' (who hadn't bothered helping him during the incident). And during these following days, Louis didn't come back.

You sighed. You wondered how your babies were doing. 

***

You had the answer not too long later at the beginning of your second week. As you walked past Sans, standing still, looking through his office door he just opened. Then he closed it. Then opened it again.  
You kept on pushing your cart, eyeing him with mild curiosity. He was stiff and tensed, he probably wasn't in a good mood. Well, you hadn't really seen him in a good mood, except maybe the very first time you saw him, before he decided that he didn't like you. And even back then he didn't seem especially cheery, despite the huge grin on his face.  
He closed and opened his door stiffly again, before turning on his heels and call :  
« witch-  
\- Yes, boss ? »  
He gave a start and looked at you with wide eyesockets.  
« fuck- shit, witch, ya must stop doin' that !  
\- Do what ? »  
He shook his head and dropped the subject.  
« cm'in. »  
He stepped aside to let you enter in his office. Perplexed, you walked around your cart and went in.  
You heard him following you and slam the door behind.  
« witch bitch. »  
You turned to him. He seemed... annoyed. Or maybe slightly beyond that, maybe angry ? It was hard to tell as the most accurate depiction you could think of was ''not in a good mood''. He waved at his surroundings. You looked around. Nothing was missing, everything was on its right place : his sofa covered with a warm clean plaid, the vacuumed carpet, the mirror-polished desk, his shelf ordered alphabetically...  
No, really, nothing was amiss. You turned back to him questioningly and you were even more confused when you saw just how angry he was. Now you noticed something red pulsing at his temp, that couldn't possibly a vein, perhaps some sort of magic manifestation of emotion. If that pulsing thing was any indication, he probably was mad.  
« ya tidied my office. »  
Oh, that was what this was about. You couldn't think of any reason why he would be mad at you for cleaning his office, though, you were just doing your job. And Papyrus had been giving you additionnal chores here and there. Including ''cleaning the lazybone's room and getting rid of that shit smell''. But you couldn't start explaining yourself that a growl started to raised from beneath Sans's ribcage and silenced you. He stepped towards you and you had to take on you not to step back. You had been in a somewhat similar situation with his brother not too long ago, but oddly enough, Papyrus, as threatening and disquieting he was, wasn't any near intimidating as the calmer skeleton was. Especially not ever since you saw Papyrus talking to Squeaky. Sans, however, needed some more digging in memory to remind you of anything near that endearing experience. You summoned the picture of him holding Rox and the rats carefully on his large palms. That helped quieting the raising stress. You inhaled and tried to talk his anger down :  
« Boss, I-  
\- shutup. »  
You obeyed. His voice was even more gravelly than usual, as a result of his growling. Clearly he was holding himself back, which made you wonder exactly how important the garbage littering his desk and floor was to him. And which also reminded you that he may have a thing for tiny creatures, he wasn't any less of a brute towards not tiny things. And you weren't exactly tiny. He pinched his nose ridge.  
« yer a pain ya know that ? i've spent a shitty week. guess why ? »  
He removed his big boney hand from his face and bent slightly forward, crushing your frail stature beneath his shadow.  
« cuz' yer fuckin' pets are shittin' with me all over like they own my place. da fucker's won't lemme have a single moment ta myself er with my mate at home, our damn home. oh, when da rats started bein' noisy at night, 's alright, we just put'm in da furthest room, 's fine, but i swear i saw them out of their fuckin' cage. i know they sneak out but any time i'm checkin' ? nope, everythin's alright, they're in their cage gazin' at me like i'm delusionnal. eh. i found rat poop in my shoes. oh it didn't take long b'fore i've started dreamin' of murder every night. i've revelled in da thoughts of enucleatin' da fat brat who fucks my pillows every time we forget to lock our bedroom door. 'n when da bedroom door's locked ? da damn sofa pillows ! 'n not only dat, the fuckin' asshole thinks he's got claims on my fuckin' slippers ! even when i'm wearing'm, he litterally jumped my foot the other day ! i kicked'm hard an' i got a lecture from my future brother-in-law cuz i have apparently no right ta have clean, virgin, unsullied slippers ta walk with ! da perv gets away with' anythin', but when i start complainin' i'm da one overexaggeratin' ! oh 'n he's not da worst, oh far from dat ! i know dat other tiny coward ate all my snacks ! he found'm everytime i hid'm!! he always got his way to them but da sneaky bastard won't ever be seen doin' it ! i have no fuckin' clue how he managed to open da locked box in da highest closet ! Cas' says i'm crazy but i know he did it cuz he smells like my fav chips, he stinks of snacks so bad i've seriously considered chompin' his tiny head off and swallow. i could do it. 's not like he'd be any challenge fer my jaws 'n my teeth. »  
You could see very well how easy that would be indeed : his sharp teeth were bared, gritting, his golden one shining mere inches away from your face and his smokey mustard breath was itching your backthroat. You managed not to cough at his face and remain respectfully unfazed.  
« 'n yer cat- fuck dat ain't no cat dat's a fuckin' demon- dat bitch. she thinkin' she'll get away with all my suits ruined with' her scratches'n hairs ? ya know how expansiv' it is ta get five good suits fixed, er buy other new ones, cuz of course i have nuthin' better ta do than go fuckin' shoppin' ? there's cat hairs in places i can't even imagine how it's gotten there ! »  
He snatched his fedora off his head and held it one centimeter from your face, as if he thought you could see clearly at that distance. You couldn't, but you did notice that there was hairs indeed, though he clearly tried his best to remove them vainly. You had been through that hell long ago, but you found a technique. You remembered teaching it to mux Dunn last week, but they had been quite distracted so they probably didn't register. He expertedly tossed his fedora on his sofa, and it landed so smoothly it looked like some sort of magic artefact.  
« ima skin her sum day. ima make new slippers with her fur 'n i'm gonna enjoy her snobbish asshole's softness on my toes. who knows maybe the othah perv droolin' fucker won't try ta get laid with it if it smells like his dead pal. 'n what's it with her 'n doors ??? she fazes through them er what ??? da othah fatass can't unlock doors but her ??? she'd dig her path through the godamn roof if it meant she could peep on my sleep ! fuck she's always there watchin' me with her blazin' vicious glare, always on da most unexpected situations, she judges me 'n my every action, i'm sure she can read my mind, one time i thought i would drink a glass o' milk an' what did she do ?? she spilled da milk bottle on my pjs !! 'n dat's not a one-time thing, anytime i need sumthin' in da house you can be sure she's on it already and ruins it !!! »  
He huffed and puffed. His eyesockets were wide over dark circles underlying them, his bonebrows furrowed, his eyelights shrinked to tiny pinprints and you distinctly saw the pulsating magic on his temp, and for some reason, you couldn't help but find this feature fascinating despite the tensed situation. But he wasn't over yet as he still had the most important to bellow :  
« an' she won't. let us. hav'. a private. moment !! Cas'n i can't fuck in our own damn home, and too much work t'have time ta get a room elsewhere, so we haven't fucked, at all, fer a whole damn week cuz yer devilish bag of fluffin' cockblockin' cuntery won't ever tear eyes away from me'n my mate !!! »  
…  
Silence followed that last statement.  
That was some informations you didn't ask to know.  
You blinked twice as Sans was catching his breath.  
« So... I hear they are doing alright. »  
If a stare could hurt you would be dead where you were standing.  
« … At your expense. Which is... infortunate. … Is mux Dunn doing well ?  
\- frustrated as shit just like me 'n their crappy job ain't doin no good to their shitty mood. glad ya asked.  
\- Oh. I am... really sorry to hear that. »  
A deep sigh escaped him. He pinched his nose ridge again, and with a lower tone, his gravelly voice resumed :  
« 'n i thought today i could finally use a break ta git my ass here 'n finally enjoy sum peace to myself. when my own home ain't my home no more, 's alright, 's fine, i can find sum rest in my office filled with' forgotten bottles of mustard, half empty packets o'chips, 'n a ton lot o' garbage i never cared ta clean. my garbage. with no smell o' horny dog, sneaky bastard, rat shit er devilish cat. but no. i couldn't even have dat. i couldn't hav dat cuz ya thought ya could come in here 'n clean my shit. now my office doesn't smell anythin'. it's empty of all life. it's like you. »  
You took your time to breathe in that information and cautiously talked :  
« About that, rest assured I would never have the idea of walking in uninvited. I was only following boss Papyrus's orders... he probably meant well, seeing how worked up you were- »  
He raised a hand and you stopped talking. He glared down on you hardly. Then he slowly articulated :  
« you have a s p i d e r on your head.  
\- Oh. May I introduce you to Squeaky. Squeaky, boss Sans. »  
You heard the usual squealing greeting your pet adressed people when you presented it. No doubt it gave Sans its best front paw wave.  
He glared at it for a long minute. Then his gaze lowered back to your eyes.  
« no way i'm takin' dat t'my house. better dust it right here'n there.  
\- Do not worry. Papyrus allowed me to keep it. »  
He snorted humorlessly.  
« eh r'ly ? ''papyrus''? gettin' a tad bit too comfy here. he ain't no pal o' yers. he's ''boss'' to ya, twerp. whadidya do to get'm ta let ya hav' it anyway ? started a special cure o' calcium ? »  
You caught his sarcastic tone but you didn't get what he meant. You noted not to let yourself call the boss by his name, though.  
« I don't understand. I don't eat more calcium than usual... and how would that make Pap- the boss any easier on me ? »  
He rolled his eyelights.  
« i'll let ya use yer smarts 'n figure it out. eh, why don't ya go ask him yerself when yer at it. since yer all comfy with'him an' all. »  
As you stood there, perplexed, he growled again and snapped :  
« get out. »  
You promptly complied, though you stopped at his door and turned back to him.  
« I can show you a way to get rid of cat and dog hairs on your clothes without having to wash them.  
\- eh y'know what. »  
He took his fedora from the sofa. He turned and walked up to you, still holding it.  
« i dun' care to know. do it yerself. »  
He handed his hat to you.  
Given how tensed he was, you would have expected him to shove it into your arms, but the out-of-place delicacy of his hold on it, and the few traces on it you could now clearly see that told how old yet well-preserved it actually was, made you realise his fedora really meant a lot to him.  
Why would he allow you to lay a finger on it ? Why would he trust you to clean it ?  
You couldn't start wondering about it since you had no time to waste on standing there, dumbfounded. So you took the fedora from Sans with the utmost caution, focused on handling it the way you thought proper.  
Once you had it, he shoved you aside, startling you.  
« now git to work, witch. »  
And just like that, he left.  
He didn't tell you when he intended to get his fedora back.  
You assumed he would come back to get it at a random time, so you set all your other chores aside to find the products and tools you needed to clean it and restore it the best you could. Then you just had to keep an eye on it and make sure it wasn't damaged any further under your care. For however long Sans tolerated to leave it behind.  
Which, at your surprise, wasn't before evening had long fallen.

***

Sans opened the door of the Grillby'z and absentmindedly bent his head down, dodging whatever the fire elemental had at hand to throw him. Today it crashed with the sound of broken glass. Sans was certain Grillby added the additional property damage on his tab anytime he threw things at him. But what did he expect, really ? That he would just stand there and take it ? For all he cared, the dumbass could break his glasses all he wanted. He'd be the one to come short on things to serve his customer with, and that was not Sans's problem. Unless he grew short on glasses to serve him. That would make him mad.  
« Pay your tab, Dodger ! »  
Usually Sans would engage in a playful verbal match with Grillby, but today, he was pissed.  
« 'm really not in the mood, wet match.  
\- I bet that's what Casey told you the other night ! »  
Sans glared Grillby hard. The purple fire elemental cracked a smirk and chuckled like cracking woodfire.  
« No, seriously ? Shit, you need a drink. »  
Sans sat at the empty bar, practically alone in the place at this early hour. Grillby swiftly prepared his favored drink : a Fire Mustard. An Islay with a cloud of Dijon mustard, spiked with a bit of red hot chilli pepper, all imbued with a pinch of Grillby's fire magic that gave the drink an eery purple glow on its surface. Purple on amber. It was really nice to see, and it burned the throat nicely. Once, a human man he had a drink with, irked, proclaimed that it was blasphemy to waste such a valuable irish whiskey with a condiment, be it a french one or not. Sans had flipped him off. And also flipped the table on his face. Because when Sans drinks Fire Mustard he really doesn't want anyone to shit with him. Blasphemy, ha. Fire Mustard was no blasphemy, it was sacred. And it was worth flipping a potential business partner off, earning an ennemy that really was no threat at all. Months later his gang was dismantled anyway. Sans chuckled. Ah, he sometimes missed having Willie's Pricks to deal with. Those guys were dicks, and had no respect for good drinks, but they were funny. And he owed them his encounter with his now soulmate, which he never had the opportunity to thank them for, since they were dead or imprisoned.  
Sans relaxed at the memories, the burning drink helping his mood.  
« So you're having a bad time at home, bonebag ? »  
His mood dropped back to where it was.  
He sure didn't have a good time at home, and he couldn't even go to his favorite bar to destress because of the ton of additionnal work Papyrus was smothering him with. He thought he could use his office to relax with the excuse of work, since, well, it was his office. Hell, he was supposed to be able to destress at home. And whatever got Papyrus hyper-paranoid, his brother seemed determined to keep it bottled up instead of opening to him, which made things even worse. Damn, Sans thought they were over that kind of shit now. Papyrus knew that if anything bugged him about the chapter he could come to him. If he thought Sans wasn't reliable enough, he wouldn't charge him with more work, he'd be ditching him. Really he coudldn't start to understand what was going on, and his situation at home really didn't help. Anytime he even considered getting hard on the pets, he could feel Braxton's annoying judgmental glare on him. Sans couldn't afford to get on his future-brother-in-law's bad side, so he shut up and took it. But. He didn't think he could take it much longer.  
Shit he needed to drink.  
« fuck off, deadspark. lemme drown my spite in peace.  
\- Are they finally cheating on you ? »  
He growled at the mere thought. « nah.  
\- How are you so sure of that ? They do spend a lot of time at work.  
\- cuz if they were i'd smell the scent of da bastard all over them, 'n i'd track da smell to da bastard's home 'n i'd spill blood er dust, moron. 'n we're soulmates. i feel it when they are... struck with powerful emotions.  
\- Ah, right, soulmates. That's convenient. Well, what are they ''struck'' with, currently ?  
\- i dun need da bound to know they're pissed at their job, at their employer, at politics, at people, at the world, at me. also they're not struck by me 'n dat's... hard.  
\- Poor sap.  
\- shit, Grillb', i've had a shitty week, can't i just drink in peace ?  
\- All my weeks are shitty weeks, Sans, but that never bothered you when it came to insult common gentlemanry and leave without paying your fuckin' tab.  
\- i really dun' give a fuck to be a gentleman to ya, wet match.  
\- Fair. I don't care to be a dick to you, either. »  
Grillby started cleaning his already sparkling counter.  
« So what's up if it isn't about your mate ?  
\- why are ya so interested ?  
\- Because you are my best customer. »  
Grillby served him his best comercial smile. The one that could somehow send cold chills in the back, which was something considering how hot that smile technically was.  
« And I haven't seen you in a whole week. That's a score. Almost got me worried you would never return... leaving me with your unpaid tab. Wouldn't like having to adress a bill to your brother. Especially if something did happen to you. »  
Sans snorted.  
« yeah, ya'd be boned. no wonder ya missed me so much.  
\- And there you are, running by so fast you forgot your fedora. »  
Sans rubbed his skull. The absence of his hat was bugging.  
« Seeing you without kind of makes your head so much bigger, rounder, like a huge billard ball. Almost gives me some ideas as to what to make of you if you keep drinking for free.  
\- what, yer gonna strike my noggin' with yer long, big hard cue stick ? y'got sumthin' ta confess, fucker ? »  
Grillby closed the gap above the counter between him and his ''best'' customer.  
« If that makes you less of a pisser, yeah maybe you need some stick throbbing your oversized cheekbones and maybe even rub the back of your eyesockets, when you're at it. »  
Sans choked on his drink and cringed.  
« fuck, grillb', quit it, yer freakin' me out. »  
Grillby smiled wickedly and relented, taking an other perfectly clean glass and resuming his barman posture.  
« All considered, your skull would be a perfect bowling ball. It has the holes on the right spots to hold it.  
\- fuck ya, grillb'.  
\- Never in your dreams. Chubby boners aren't my type. »  
Sans cringed again and chose to drop it. He really wasn't in the mood, especially for hate-flirting with Grillby above all people. That guy was litterally way too hot for him to handle. Heck, he probably was way too hot for anybody. No wonder why he was so abrasive, that man had to get laid sonner or later or he might set his own bar on fire. Eh. Sans already threw all of that at the fiery purple monster's face one time in the past, and the fire elemental had been all too happy to respond with bone-based insults, but today, Sans didn't want to get to that.  
« … Especially those who smell sweaty dogs and... » He audibly sniffed the air nearby Sans. « ... mean cats ? What have you done ? You moved in a pet shelter and threw your soap in the trash ? »  
Sans growled.  
« I suggest you stop stinking like a pussycat in a kennel. That's probably why Casey doesn't want you if I had to guess. »  
Sans tightened his grip on his empty glass so hard it shattered.  
« I'll add that on your tab, Dodger.  
\- do that but, please, shut up. 'n give me another one. »  
Grillby obliged to both orders, before resuming his bartender duties.

Sans could finally savor his Fire Mustard in silence. He scratched his skull, and the absence of his hat annoyed him some more. He growled.  
What had gotten into him ?! He was on edge since his week had been the shittiest in a long time -well, the shittiest ever since he had moved in with Casey- but his reaction to it really was laughable. Really, he was embarrassed with himself. He intended to give Witch a good scare, but instead, he made himself a fool by spilling his guts to them. Sure he insulted them a lot in the process and it did feel good to vent out a bit, but- shit. He told them about his sex life and it was so obvious he was frustrated and being a petty jerk about it. He felt oddly pathetic just thinking about his outburst in his office, on the face of a person that really didn't have to know anything about it. He even left them with his fedora to fix, like he could afford to trust them to take good care of it.  
But something in the way they eyed the item and took it with utmost delicacy was compforting. They held it like it was their very own life. Which wasn't far from the truth. Besides, if he had to not mistreat their pets, they probably could manage to not destroy a hat.  
And apparently Papyrus trusted them enough to let them work without supervision, now. Might as well test them with one of his most cherished item. (What had gotten into him???) If they messed it up, it would give him the long-yearned excuse to get rid of those parasites at home. (Just go back and take it from them before they mess it up!!!) He couldn't just change his mind and go back now. He already made himself a fool, he couldn't make it worse. (Was pride worth his precious fedora ?? And what fucks would he give what Witch thought about him anyway??)  
He angrily tapped the counter with the tip of his finger. Grillby poured him another drink.  
« what wouldya do if ya were face ta face with someone ya can't read ?  
\- I would do my work while keeping an eye on them. If they happened to mean trouble, I'd kick them out of my bar. I they happened to mean trouble and were a serious threat, I would keep my best commercial smile and spit discreetly in their glass. »  
Sans nodded.  
« yeah. right. but i can't really do that.  
\- You can't just do your job and keep wary ?  
\- nnnope. they kinda... vanish into thin air.  
\- You mean, like you, or more metaphorically ?  
\- well they can't do that litterally. they're just a human. which makes it even more unnerving.  
\- … So they're a human, you can't read them and they are extremely stealthy.  
\- yup.  
\- Kill them. »  
Pure logic. Somebody, a human above all, too stealthy and too unreadable that couldn't just be ignored because too involved already ? Kill it. Sans had suggested that himself to Papyrus. But the boss decided otherwise.  
« can't.  
\- Then work in knowing them better. Learn anything you can until you can guess what they are thinking. Make them play into your hands. »  
Of course. That is exactly what Papyrus demanded to Casey, and that's why that week had been so shitty : Casey had way too much work on their hands, Shura had to help them, so Papyrus hadn't Shura near him to distract him, so he was all cranky and also something must be happening because he was getting all too paranoid giving Sans a hard time.  
« case's on it.  
\- Great. Then what's the problem ?  
\- i got their fuckin' pets at home.  
\- … Why do you have to keep someone's pets. »  
Sans shrugged. That's what he had been reflecting all week long.  
« 's one of pap's call. »  
Grillby nodded philosophically.  
« Papyrus's calls are often good calls. » Yeah, the same kind that gave Sans a soulmate. Maybe Witch would be a damn fuckin' miracle. « That leaves you to hold on until you can get rid of the annoyance. »  
He resumed cleaning a glass.  
« So, that explains the smell. Did they ruin your fedora too ?  
\- they better not. »  
Grillby nodded.  
« If you tell me more about them, I might think of something helpful.  
\- well they're a fuckin weirdo... »  
And Sans started telling Grillby everything.  
In the end of his ranting, customers starting flooding in. Grillby went to take orders then came back.  
« Witch seems...  
\- fuckin' annoyin'.  
\- Interesting enough. »  
Sans cast Grillby a questionning -though slightly fuzzy- look.  
« I can't tell for sure. My advice is the same : get to know them and you'll see. They could be a threat, but just as anyone could. They aren't that exceptionnal that you need to overthink it. But- »  
He went to give a customer's order then came back.  
« - if the Syndicate doesn't find any use of them in the end, I think I would find a use of a good worker here. That is, if they are still available once you are over with them. »  
Sans's grin widened.  
« sure. i'll suggest that to the boss... on one condition.  
\- No, it won't clear your tab.  
\- hey hey listen in : i just won't give'm to ya fer free. 's still a syndicate's worker. i'll rend'm ta ya. at a fair price.  
\- So you come in here, make a tab big as your boss's ego, and then want me to pay for a worker you are not even sure to be able to provide me.  
\- … yyup'.  
\- Suck it. Start by paying your damn tab before asking me to pay anything to you. However. »  
He leaned slightly closer, and Sans slightly cringed in response, but kept his relaxed posture.  
« If they prove beneficial to me, I would consider erasing a proportionnal amount of your tab.  
\- yeah, dat settles a deal !  
\- Don't count your chikens before they hatch. There is no deal yet.  
\- i'll still drink to it.  
\- As you wish. »  
And Grillby poured him an other Fire Mustard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO GOT THE DICK JOKES ??? WHO ??? (there are three. Four if you count one that isn't from me and I shamelessly reused, but I don't count it on my part. If you find more you'll have delicious home-made cookies. I'll send them via mailpost cuz I now where you live. All of you. Yes, I know. And I will send you cookies. You won't escape the cookies. -only if you find the dick jokes or else I won't bother, really. don't count on it-)  
Special credits to RyftWyrd who helped me with the beginning of the chapter to get me started. Sorry I forgot to mention you earlier, dude T^T I'm a bad meanie !


End file.
